An Hour From Town
by gotgoats
Summary: On the way back from a conference, the team finds themselves stranded in an odd situation. Focuses on Abby, Tony, Gibbs, and Ducky. Gibbs!Whump
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar for being my amazing beta! ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb! Wuv Yooo!

Note: OOC warning. This story is the result of a funny conversation between Headbanger, lbinkeybella and myself. Total OOC moments, Gibbswhump! and other weirdness. Entire story is improbable and bizarre. It's just fun torture. :)

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Gibbs swore as the snow started to fall. They'd missed their flight back to DC, and had decided to drive, as budget cuts weren't allowing them to hang out in hotel rooms for a week. However, that same budget would allow for a rental car, and Vance would allow them two days to drive cross country.

He and Ducky were in the backseat for a bit while Tony drove the car and Abby drove them nuts with the music. And Gibbs was cursing Vance for sending them to that freakishly moronic set of seminars. Who on earth would have sent the entire MCRT lead and SFA, their ME, and their lab rat on a week long mission to lose their minds? Easy answer: Leon Vance.

Their Director was so busy flexing his muscles that he was wasting resources just to prove he could make decisions. Gibbs and Ducky were discussing how best to confront their boss as Abby flipped through radio stations. There was nothing but fuzz. And there hadn't been for over twenty minutes.

They'd passed a town nearly an hour ago, but they'd seen nothing since. Abby pulled out her phone, only to discover they were in a dead zone for their phones. She dialed Tim, thinking maybe she would get a single bar when she hit send. No such luck.

They were now creeping down the highway. Winds had picked up, and Tony was concentrating on his driving. His steering wheel was turned to the side, and if the wind had not been so fast, he would have been off in a field. An even harsher gust blew, and the car whipped off the road into a snowbank. Gibbs swore and tried to call for help. Damn. No signal.

Tony groaned.

"Tony! Abby!"

"Yeah, Boss?"

"You two ok?" Abby nodded.

"Yep." DiNozzo nodded. "What we gonna do?"

"No idea." Gibbs shouted above the roar of the wind. Even with their windows closed, the wind whistled and howled.

For two hours, they sat in their car, the engines running intermittently to conserve gas and thereby heat. The third hour began, and Tony got bored. He began to blow the horn. Gibbs head-slapped him, trying to get the man to stop. The sound was barely traveling in the wind, and was just annoying them.

Tony blew again, and then stopped. Something was making noise outside. And it wasn't Gibbs. The man was still huffing in the backseat, despite his promise to come around and strangle the younger man.

Something tall was breathing at his window, and when Tony cleared the fog off of his window, there was something breathing, blowing fog on his window. And then he saw teeth. Huge, dirty teeth.

"Augh!" lept back, Ducky looking over his shoulder. Abby screamed, and Gibbs pulled his pistol.

"Everybody ok?" An unfamiliar voice called out over the wind. "I heard your horn." Seconds later, a face pressed against their window.

Tony opened his door and stepped out into the storm. He put his hands up to ward off the friendly horse who greeted him.

"Woah!" The person batted at Tony's hands. "He's not gonna hurt you. Get everybody into the sled."

Tony looked at the short powerhouse that was currently stalking toward him with blankets, and then leaned into his car to give directions. Before long, his teammates were in the sled. Gibbs stood arguing with the stranger for a few moments before he acquiesced and got in with the others. He put the last remaining blanket over his legs, and watched, feeling inept as their hero walked back beside her horse.

Gibbs gritted his teeth. Her horse. She was walking in this storm, and he was sitting on his ass. After what seemed like an hour, they entered a barn. The wind stopped blowing, the smell of hay, manure, animals, and dust surrounded them.

The stranger went to the door and shut it. While not heated, the barn suddenly seemed a haven of warmth. The team as a whole breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good boy, Jag." A low alto voice spoke quietly. "Good boy. Ya done good." Jag shook his head and shied away from the noisy people behind him. "Hey, fella." She began to undo buckles and straps that looked complicated to the others, but she did them with practiced ease.

"Sorry it's not warmer in here." She spoke to the team as she hung the heavy harness on a wall peg. "But it's warmer than outside, right?"

"Yes, it is." Abby answered, wondering if the strange person actually wanted an answer. Apparently she did. The woman flashed her a quick grin as she grabbed a brush and blanket.

"Let me rub Jag down, and I'll get ya'll to the house. If you go into the milk room, over there," she pointed with her lips to a side door, "You'll find a heater. Should be turned on low. Don't turn it up to high, cuz it gets too hot. Starts to stink." After those words, her attention was completely on her horse.

The team filed into what she had referred to as the milk room, and were surprised to see milking stanchions set up. They weren't large enough for cows. Had to be goats.

There was a bench about as tall as Gibbs' workbench. On it were clean buckets with lids on them, and two large milk totes. There was grain in the feeders attached to the stanchions, so a sweet smell hung in the air.

Gibbs looked around and found the heater. He turned it up, and saw why it would overheat. The machine was perhaps older than the woman who had come after them. Before long, the room was toasty, and the younger people had put down empty feed sacks on the bases of the elevated milking stands to sit on.

After what seemed like forever, the door opened and their host walked in. Her coat was off, sweat poured down her face, and she stopped when she saw them sitting on the stanchions.

"I'm so sorry. Shoulda thought about ya'll being tired."

"No, you're fine." Gibbs stood. "Anything we can do?"

"Nope. Fed everybody their grass, I'll get their alfalfa later, Jag's bedded down, he's rubbed down, and I'm ready to rest for a bit before I come back out to milk."

"Come back out? In this?"

"Yep." She looked around at the motley crew. "I'm Sam, by the way." Everyone introduced themselves themselves while Sam got her coat back on.

"Ok, folks. Rules for the walk to the house. Wind is stronger than it was, it'll blow ya down if you're not careful. There's a rope tied from the barn to the house. Hold on tight, and don't let go. If you do, you'll likely get lost." With that, she nodded to the door. "Come on. I've got dinner cooking. There's enough for all."

She opened the door, and a wind more vicious than the one they had been caught in before greeted them. She grabbed the roped she'd been talking about, and headed out, her hand holding onto it tightly. One by one, the team followed.

By the time they reached the house, all four of them were nearly frozen. The house seemed overly warm. The kitchen had a decided warmth, and they groaned in pleasure. She pulled open a door on an overturned 50-gallon barrel and threw in a piece of wood.

The small house was getting even warmer. The team began taking off their jackets, hanging them in the small entry along with horse tack and various farming gear. The pegs looked to be old, almost like pegs that had been chopped out of a thin branch. Shelves were hanging on the wall, boots were lined up under them, but the thing that caught their attention the most was three buckets that were stacked. They were lidded, but the curious thing was the multiple nipples that stuck out from them.

Lights were turned on in every room of the small house. It wasn't much more than a cabin, in fact it was smaller than some cabins they'd seen on various vacations. There were a total of six rooms, including the entry and bathroom.

The living room was the entire length of the house, and it was nearly as wide. It was by far the largest room. The two bedrooms were 8 x 8, the kitchen about the same size, and the bathroom was half the size of the bathrooms. The house was tiny. 192 square feet of High Plains heaven. Which translated into 384 feet of MCRT hell.

"There's a couple of chairs and a couch. Go ahead and make yourself comfy!" Sam stood in the kitchen, a pan of raised bread in her hand. Gibbs quirked an eyebrow. How was she gonna cook it? There was a fridge, a sink, but no stove.

"Hey, um, is there a TV?" Sam stopped and thought a moment. Her mouth quirked to the side as she inventoried her storage in the barn. She was putting water on to boil, and to his surprise, the pan went on the wood burning stove. She chucked in another piece of wood before answering.

"I may have one out in the barn." Sam shrugged. "It'll have to wait for the morning. Can't do anything about it now."

"A TV in the barn?"

"In storage, yeah. I don't watch it." She shrugged, not understanding why Tony looked so upset. "What?"

"You don't watch TV?"

"No. They did that change with the lines, where they don't send out a signal anymore, and this part of the country is so remote they didn't do it here. So we don't get TV unless we pay for satellite."

"That was years ago."

"Yeah. I didn't watch TV when it was free, why would I waste the money to pay for it?"

"Um, cuz it's TV? You can find out about the world?"

"Don't need the world." Sam laughed. "I got a radio that tells me the projected wheat and corn prices, they give me a quick look of what's going on in the area, a little of the dumb ideas of our great elected dunder-heads, and how they'll affect the future of farming."

"Any music?"

"Yeah. They play jazz on Monday, some weird stuff on Tuesday. Country on Wednesday, Classical on Thursday, 50's and 60's rock on Friday, and Saturday is a mix. Sunday is church services."

"You're kidding me."

"No." She looked at him, totally confused. "Just one station comes out here. So they play it all."

"Boss!" Tony turned and headed to the living room where he sat in a rocker that looked to have been handmade.

"Yeah, DiNozzo?"

"We died, didn't we." His eyes were huge. "And we didn't go to heaven."

"Be nice, Tony. We're warm, and if those smells are any indication, we're gonna be overfed."

"Yeah, that's all well and good for you. I thought you were behind the times with your old black and white TV in your basement."

"Small trade for warmth and food, Tony. Small trade."

"Soup's on!" Sam called from the kitchen, and Gibbs nodded to the door. Ducky raised an eyebrow and led the way. The meal could prove to be interesting.

And certainly it was. There was no denying that they were eating the leg of something. It had been in the makeshift crock pot, apparently for hours. The deep steel outer pan it was set in was blackened completely. But it smelled heavenly. From the inner pan, she kept pulling out vegetables. The pan of bread she had stuffed into the "oven" was nicely browned, while the pan was blackened.

"Why cook so much if it's just you?"

"Not a lot of time for cooking." She talked while cutting off slices of the tender meat. "So I cook enough for a week or two at a time."

"Don't you get tired of it?" She stopped cold and looked at him.

"You ever been hungry? Like, working since 3 in the morning, and it's now 8 at night, and still not eaten hungry?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Yeah, you do that a few times, or have days when there isn't any food, because everything you grow has to go to market to pay the feed bill, or you've worked so much you're in tears and the thought of cooking is too much to handle, and you'll never get tired of the same thing over and over again. You'll be thankful you got something. Anything."

"Does that happen often?" Ducky's voice was quiet. The woman before them was certainly not skinny. Not necessarily obese, but she was no fine china doll.

"It's kidding season, Ducky, wasn't it?"

"Yes. What does kidding season mean?"

"It means out of 200 does, I've got about 150 that will deliver in the next three months. They'll have litters of two to four, and since I do cheese, I'll need the milk, which means I milk the mama's, give the babies some milk and some replacer, and do it all over again when I'm done."

Silence settled over the kitchen for a moment.

"Come on, folks. This ain't gonna eat itself." They dished helpings for themselves, and joined her in the living room, where she promptly sat on the floor. When Abby went to join her, she motioned towards a chair.

"Sit. Floor's cold."

"Why don't you take a chair?"

"I've not been freezing my ass off in a drifted car for who knows how long. Now sit."

Before the last of them even had their plates full, Sam was on her feet once again, and putting on her coat.

"Where you going?" Gibbs wasn't too sure about her going out there by herself. Not after the winds they had walked to the house in.

"Gotta milk and feed. Don't worry. I'll be back in a couple of hours." And with that, she was back out the door.

"Does anyone else get creepy feelings about our host?"

"She's a little odd."

"Well, she's used to being alone." Gibbs looked out the door, relieved to see a light flicker in the milk room window. "Duck, what do you think?"

"I think we've stumbled across someone who has lived this way her entire life and isn't aware that the world is changing."

"How can someone not know?"

"Where was the last town, Abby?" Her eyes opened wide.

"It was like, a hundred miles."

"Exactly."

Two hours later, the door blew open, and Sam stood in the entry, carrying something little and noisy. She brought her pouch to the living room and knelt by a small wooden box that had been carefully padded. When she backed away, three kids lay in curls.

"Their ears are so long."

"Awww! They're so cute!"

"How can they breathe like that? Do we need to move their heads?"

"No, we don't need to move their heads." Sam came and stood between Tony and Abby. "See how they're laying? That's how they were in their mama. By looking at them, I can see a kind of snap shot of how they developed. Pretty interesting." She chuckled. "Some of 'em, they're like puzzles. No wonder mama has trouble getting them out."

One of them woke and started to stand. Its head flopped, its legs wobbled, but eventually, it was up.

"They stand so soon?"

"Sure. They're food. Prey animals are standing and moving in an hour or less. Predators take a long time." She grinned. "Makes ya wonder about the mouse."

She came in and sat down with a blanket over her lap, picking up the baby who was now standing.

"Let's get you fed, little man."

"It's a boy?"

"Yeah." She looked at Abby confused. "He's got something a girl doesn't have." Gibbs roared with laughter. This conversation was too funny.

"May I be of assistance?" Ducky stood now, completely fascinated.

"Not with the first feeding, but thanks. I could use your help in the barn, though."

"With what?"

"Got sixteen more does in labor."

"Sixteen?"

"Yep." Sam laughed merrily. "It's a snowstorm. What better night can you think of to make your human miserable?"

Twenty minutes later, all of the babies had been fed, and Sam was ready to go back out. Ducky was dressed in some leftover clothes, with boots too big, a coat that seemed to dwarf him, and mittens with pull away fingertips. His outfit was completed when she put a large and furry hat on his head.

Abby snapped a picture. He tried to glare, but it didn't work.

"Where is your coat?"

"I'll get it, but gotta keep you warm. I'm used to this, you're not."

When the two headed out into the storm, Tony looked at Gibbs. The older man quirked his eyebrow.

"You don't think she'll kill him out there, do you?" His head jolted forward from the slap.

Sam and Ducky reached the barn and went inside. It was colder than it had been before, but it was still far warmer than outside.

He looked around, really paying attention to the structure for the first time. There were five large pens with a walk way between them and the walls. The way was large, and two sections of the walkway had been sectioned off to hold does who were in various stages of labor.

She went and checked on them, saying that none of them were ready to deliver just now. Soon, but not at this moment. With that declaration, she let four does out of another pen and ushered them into the milk room.

He walked in behind the animals, chuckling at how she scolded them for getting on the wrong stands. To his amazement, they all got down and went to different stands. Their heads went through the holder bars, and they began to eat, chowing down as if they had not already devoured copious amounts of hay.

Sam got them fastened in, and sat next the one farthest from the work table.

"Hey, girl. You're gonna be a great-grandma tonight, yes you are. Your little Jubilee is in labor." The goat "talked" to Sam in between bites. She gave a full pail, which was weighed. Sam then dumped the milk into a large container with handles on both sides.

"Now, what are you doing there?"

"I'm putting this milk into cook. It'll be pasteurized, and I'll feed the babies with it while I'm finishing milking."

"How many times a day do you do this?"

"Twice." She shrugged, which was an interesting feat considering she was bent over, almost half under a goat. "The new mama's need milked more often, so they get milked every couple of hours. The ones who are past the colostrum stage can go for 6-8 hours, depending on how long ago they kidded, and the longest they last is 12 hours. The steadier the schedule, the more they produce."

"How many babies do they have at once?"

"Two to four."

"And how long do they milk for?"

"Well, this old girl is still milking from the last year. That one is milking since a mid-summer birth, when she wasn't supposed to be bred, so I'll have her milk till she goes into heat again, and then I'll start to dry her off. Usually, they milk for a year." He listened to the quiet noises of the goats, and the soothing sound of the milk hitting the pail. To his amusement, Sam had her eyes closed and was milking with her head against the goat beside her. Suddenly, she moved the pail as the goat's foot flew.

"Oh, no ya don't, you stinker."

"How did you know she was going to move? I didn't see anything."

"Her belly tensed." Sam grinned. "That's the best way to know." It was quiet again for a moment. "Have you ever heard a rumen move before?"

"A what?"

"Rumen. Their stomachs."

"I can't say that I have." He stepped forward and bent his ear down to where she showed him. His eyes widened. "That is amazing! It's a heartbeat and a swoosh at the same time!"

"Yep." Sam yawned. "Best lullaby there is." In less than 15 minutes, she milked all four goats and was ready to turn them out into the barn. She ran a bucket of hot water and put it in the aisle before turning the girls loose.

Ducky watched with amusement as they ran out the door and drank down the hot water quickly. When he looked back to Sam, she shrugged.

"We like coffee and cookies. So do they. And here's their cookies." She put down a pan of rehydrated sugar beet pulp. The girls munched down the beets and were into the stack of alfalfa before Ducky could keep track of them.

Sam pulled three of them away from the hay and drug them back to their pens. It looked easy, so Ducky grabbed the remaining goat's collar. To his surprise, she was able to drag him several steps. He looked over at Sam, who now held all three of her goats collars in one hand, and gained a new appreciation for the strength in her hands.

"Daphne! Stop giving him a hard time. Get your goofy butt over here." Ducky chuckled as the goat stopped her pulling and looked to her owner.

"Bahhhaaahhh!"

"Don't talk back to me." Sam quirked an eyebrow. "Don't forget, you're crunchy and good with mint jelly." Daphne's nose flared, and her hair stood on end. She stalked forward and walked to the door of the pen on her own. Once there, she looked up at Sam and bellowed once again.

"I love you, too, silly girl." Sam leaned down and hugged Daphne. The goat fairly curled around the young woman, nibbling playfully at her hear. "Hey, now." Sam laughed. "You're not my type."

Ducky swore the goat stuck her tongue out. Sam let four more goats out, and they ran toward the pan of beet pulp. Sam was right behind them on their tails.

"No, girls, you get your butts in the milk room! Sweets after." The girls grumbled the best goats can, but they obeyed. Fifteen minutes later, they were released back into the aisle, and the "dance" repeated itself. Ducky watched at Sam marked off names on a list. He counted quickly, his eyes widening. She was only on eight, and had to go to 45.

The milk room was now very warm, with the heater running at a good temperature. Sam walked over and checked on the does in labor, deciding that none of them would be having their babies in the next few minutes. Perhaps after another round or two of milking. But after this round, it would be time to feed the babies. Ducky could hear them calling, but wasn't sure where they were.

Twenty minutes later, when the next batch of does was milked, put away, Sam's hands were washed, and the milk was ready, Sam handed Ducky a bucket with nipples all around the edge.

"Extra set of hands is handy. Do you mind?"

"Not at all." He smiled and followed. She went through a door he'd missed before, and the noise was unbelievable. There were six pens of babies, all with six to ten baby goats in them. Sam stepped over a short fence and into one of the pens.

"Stay on that side." She smiled at him. "They'll eat you alive." Indeed, the bigger kids she was feeding at the moment were nearly pushing the bucket over.

"They eat just twice a day?"

"No, they're still young enough to need to eat four times a day. Hey! Hey! Stop pushing, Atlas!"

"They have names?"

"Oh, yeah. Of course." She looked at Ducky as if he were crazy. "They're livestock and pets. They gotta have names. An unnamed goat is a sad goat."

"So what are these goat's names?"

"Well, that's Atlas, and Hercules, and Poirot, and that's Maize, and Felix, and Toby, and..." She continued to list the babies in the pen, and then in the next, and eventually all of them. He couldn't even tell the differences between half of them, much less remember all of their names.

The babies were fed, and Sam went back to milking. She went faster now, which was something the old ME found hard to believe. He thought she was fast before. Her speed in the aisle increased, as well, as she was feeding in between getting the girls out and milked.

Another hour, and she was done milking. She stood and flexed her fingers, which Ducky knew had to be sore. He winced as she cracked her knuckles and then her back.

"I know, I shouldn't do it."

"You're right. Knuckle cracking may feel better at the moment, but it's one of the leading causes of arthritis." Sam laughed.

"Yeah, I know. And milking is the leading cause of carpal tunnel." She winked and walked past him, carrying a plastic bucket with hot water, and for some strange reason, dish soap. She had just washed her hands, and the dishes were stacked to take to the house.

"Cheeky bugger." Her laughter rang out in the chilly aisle.

"You should put your coat on!"

"I'm working! I'll get too hot!"

"As a doctor, I must tell you the dangers of hypothermia!"

"I know all about them, Ducky. Hey, she's pushing!" Ducky came around the corner, and sure enough, the goat in the nearest holding pen was laying down, pushing.

"In that room right there," here she pointed to three doors off to the side, "The one closest to you, is a bin of rolled up papers. Can you hand me a stack? And a couple of towels?"

"Certainly. What will they be used for?" He asked his question as he carried out her request.

"I'll clean the babies with the papers, and finish drying them with the towels."

"How many towels would you like?"

"Well, she usually has three. So I'll say four."

"Just in case?"

"Just in hopes." She grinned as Maria strained to push out the first baby. With a gush of fluid, her water broke. Sam caught it on an opened feed sack, and drug it around to Maria's head. The goat lapped it up greedily. Sam spoke softly the entire time.

"May I ask why you're having her drink her amniotic fluid?"

"She's in labor, which means she'll be losing a lot of fluid, and I don't want her to get dehydrated. This will also help speed along her labor."

"And does this work?"

"Sure." Sam shrugged. "It's what I was taught. And there seems to be a difference in times for delivery when the doe doesn't drink."

"Fascinating. May I ask other questions?"

"Go for it." Sam pulled the now cleaned paper back down to the business end of Maria. "I'm my own vet. Gotta be. Don't think there's much I'll not be able to answer."

"Beyond the amniotic fluid giving them fluid, does it have any other purpose?"

"It's got a lot of protein, easy to digest nutrients, all of that. It also helps to make her think she's taking care of her baby."

"Is that a problem? Why not let them nurse?"

"Well, in milking, I become baby to the goats, and mama to the babies. Now with milking, it's important to control any illnesses, so I pasteurize the milk to kill any bacteria or viruses."

"Brilliant."

"Saves a lot of the kid crop." She shrugged, then reached forward. Maria was straining harder, and Ducky could see a bubble emerging from her. "Come on, girl. Push a little more."

As if she was listening, Maria pushed harder, and more of the bubble emerged. Sam reached out further and popped the bubble, quickly grabbing a leg and giving a gentle tug. Maria let out a pained bleat as the first baby slid out.

"You're ok, Baby Girl." Sam dried off the baby goat quickly, making sure its head was dry first. Maria was looking back, interested. "You want your water? Ok, here you go." Sam slid the papers forward, and once again, it was licked clean, just as before. This time, Maria seemed to wash the paper, as she would a baby.

"Oh, I see how it works." Ducky was entranced. Sam had the baby wrapped and ready to go in a matter of moments. She stood and handed it absently to her new friend, her eyes already on Maria.

"Is this a boy or girl?"

"It's a girl." She was already on her knees helping to deliver the next baby. To his surprise, instead of popping the bubble and pulling out the baby, she pushed it back in!

"Why do that?"

"She's trying to deliver it butt first, with no feet. Makes the baby too big, and it can damage her and kill the baby." While she spoke, she was slathering her hand with dish soap. Reaching out once again, he watched in morbid fascination as she slowly pushed into the doe, felt around, Sam's eyes squinting in concentration.

"You were trying to deliver a chest! Oh, my goodness!" She talked to Maria, who was now trying to stand. "No, girl, stay down. Shhhh. There, that's it. I got a head and legs. Good girl." Seconds later, the next baby slid out with the help of Sam's hand.

Ducky watched as she went through the drying process, bringing the fluid around for Maria to drink once more. The process was ingenious, really. As the goat drank her fluids, her biological need to care for the baby was met, and Sam put a bit of the mess onto her hand and let Maria clean her. When the goat leaned back to talk to "her baby", Sam answered with gentle noises, almost like a newborn goat.

Two more babies came, bringing a total of three girls, one boy.

"Now, we go to the house and get the babies settled while she delivers the afterbirth."

"Will she eat that, too?"

"No, I'll wrap that up in the feed sack and throw it out. Her system isn't designed to eat the placenta. She can, and if left, she will. But I don't like her to."

"It doesn't affect her adversely?"

"No, that molasses in the milk room?"

"Yes?"

"It's got a high mineral and iron content, and when added with a nutrient drench, makes a nutritious mix that gives her everything she'll need."

"Fascinating. And her colostrum?"

"Her colostrum will be heat treated, not pasteurized. If it's pasteurized, it's ruined, but heat treated lets the enzymes and antibodies, and good bacteria survive while killing off harmful bacteria and germs."

Ducky was astounded. He had always assumed farming was not so precise. He was finding out the opposite was true. His host walked into the milk room once more, and carried out a gallon of milk. He'd watched as she blended fresh with frozen, and she explained how she quick-froze half gallons, then added fresh, to create a cold gallon of milk. That way, the milk was always fresh, and for human consumption, she never pasteurized it.

"_It actually grows bacteria faster if it's pasteurized. The process of pasteurization began when health standards were far lower, and milk wasn't cared for properly."_

"_How do you properly care for milk?"_

"_Keep it cold, and when out of the udder, get it cold quickly. The back of the fridge is the coldest place, so milk is best there, and don't keep it in the light. That's why that one company uses the yellow jugs. The light can't break down and spoil the milk. The big thing you need to know is that milk is like a fine wine. It bruises. So if it's separated, a gentle turning of the jug," and here she demonstrated turning an empty jug on it's top, and then back to bottom, "is all you need to do. Shake it, and you bruise it, which causes it to spoil."_

He followed, carrying goat kid and a gallon of milk, taking care to step in her footsteps, as the snow was deepening. He wasn't sure he'd be interested in coming back out in the storm, but she had several other does in stages of labor, and would need to milk the one that had just kidded. His head swam with the amount of work that was put in to every part of this operation.

"Who helps you?" This question was asked once they had reached the house again.

"What do you mean?" She was obviously confused. "Who helps?"

"Do you do this every day by yourself?"

"Yeah. Not exactly a lot of neighbors. Sometimes a couple of 4-H kids come out during the summer. I give them odd jobs, and there's a family in town that can't afford a goat, so I trade them a goatling every year for a little work."

"But you live here, by yourself?"

"Yeah." She was now looking at Ducky as though he were dumb. "Have for a long time. What's wrong with the place?"

"Nothing, I'm just amazed that one person works so much."

"Well, usually it's a family business, but when you don't have a family..." She shrugged and got to work. Long after she had shown Abby where clean sheets and extra blankets were, argued with Gibbs about sleeping in the spare room, and had gone to the barn three more times, Ducky fell asleep. His mind was whirring with questions.

He rose once to use the restroom and had to wait for Gibbs to exit. Sam was stoking the fire, and the men just shook their heads. If they were gonna be stuck for days, they'd have to learn to do some of it, especially if she got caught outside for a long time. Gibbs figured he could do the stove, but it was the weirdest one he'd ever seen, obviously homemade. The wall behind it showed signs of wires where a propane heater had stood. It only raised more questions in his mind.

Ducky went and checked the baby tally in the living room, and to his surprised, there were now 17 babies between the four boxes.

"Good lord." With that, he trudged back to bed. Jethro was still awake. "Our young friend works too hard." Gibbs just grunted. Finally he answered.

"But she seems happy, Duck. Let it go." And the silver haired man was asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Don't own NCIS. I think Santa forgot...

Note: Thanks to my amazing beta, Headbanger Rockstar. Love you! ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Breakfast was over, and Gibbs wandered through the tiny house, looking at things. There were no closets, instead, there where little single-board hutches with rods across the top with a cupboard above.

The living room had built in bookshelves, the only real storage in the house. He looked at her selection of reading material. Military history, veterinary manuals, and livestock records. There were a few classics, obviously often read and well used.

When he looked around the rest of the room, his eyes caught on a flag in a triangular glass and wooden box on the wall. It wasn't hidden, but wasn't displayed prominently, either. As if it's presence was honored and yet painful. The flag raised questions he was reluctant to ask.

He opened a cupboard, curiosity taking over. Things were stacked neatly, and he shook his head. He thought he lived simply. Boy was he wrong.

"I'm bored." Those words from Abby or Tony were usually the beginnings of disaster. Gibbs winced.

"Me, too." Tony held up a deck of cards from the edge of the antique maple desk. They were well used, obviously a source of entertainment for their odd hostess.

The wind was whistling, and the twenty some baby goats in the boxes were asleep. They'd had breakfast, all been taken outside to a sheltered yard just outside of the door, and their beds were changed. Laundry was going, and Sam was outside again, leaving the team to fend for themselves.

"Leave her stuff alone, guys."

"She said to make ourselves at home." Tony's eyes twinkled. "She won't mind." Within minutes, Tony and Abby were seated at the desk, separated by the corner. They played four full hands of poker, two games of go fish, and were once again completely bored.

The baby goats were getting noisy, and just about the time they reached unbearable decibels, the door flew open.

"All right, all right. I'm here. Good grief." The babies quieted for a moment, as if shocked that someone had answered. Sam was busy, filling bottles as quickly as she could. She had colostrum of three types. One for the babies just born from the first milking of all, colostrum from the second milking from the babies in the second day of their lives, and then a mix of milk and colostrum from the third day after delivery.

The bottles were carried in on a tray, kept in specific bunches, even though the color was vastly different. The first colostrum was yellow and thick the second was less yellow, almost an egg-nog color. The third was barely different than milk. She set the tray down and returned to the kitchen, bringing out three pitchers with hot water. The bottles were put into the water and she turned to her guests.

"You guys willing to help me get this done quickly and painlessly?"

"I'm in! Baby goats!" Abby was fairly vibrating with excitement. "What do I do?"

"I'll have you guys feed the older babies who have it figured out, and once they've eaten, you take them out to the yard." Abby cheered and picked up a kid.

"Put this towel over your lap, and settle the kid on your lap. Make sure she doesn't slip." Abby followed her instructions, and Sam nodded her approval as she handed off a bottle. "Make sure you keep the baby's nose under her eyes."

"How do I do that?" Sam proceeded to show her how to hold the baby and bottle, and then turned away to get another kid. Tony was next.

"Why can't their noses go higher than their eyes?"

"The way their throat is. If their nose is higher than their eyes, the milk goes straight to their lungs."

"Oh, that's not good." Tony sat and carefully arranged the baby on his lap, groaning as it sneezed on his shirt. "Eww." Abby laughed at him.

"Come on, you two." Gibbs and Ducky reluctantly sat on the couch and spread the towels she held over their laps. She handed them the two biggest kids, and the men laughed as the babies began to root at their chins, obviously hoping to find something to latch on to.

She handed the men bottles, and sat down, scooping up one of the most recently born babies. They had always assumed that babies knew how to nurse, but given her struggle with the tiny kid, it was obvious that instinct hadn't yet kicked in.

Tony and Abby finished just moments before Gibbs. Ducky was still struggling through, as he had to stop several times to let air back into the bottle, as his kid was sucking hard enough to collapse the plastic soda bottle.

"A little hungry, are you?" Ducky laughed as he tried to get air into the bottle again. Four hard sucks later, and the bottle was emptied. "He seems to still be hungry."

"Nah." Sam laughed. "Let his brain catch up. If he's still hungry after he's done his business, then we'll get him again."

"Outside now?"

"You bet! Everybody pick up a bottle from the same pitcher on their way by, and I'll tell ya which baby to pick up."

The four headed outside, and Sam looked down at the little one she held. Her eyebrow cocked as the kid finally started to suck quickly.

"Got it, did ya? Bout time." Then she laughed as the baby became so excited over getting milk that she nearly jumped off of her lap. "No, ya don't. Get back here, goofy." The baby had released the nipple and was now shaking her head, mouth open, in the direction of the bottle. "Oh, for Pete's sake. Close your mouth." Sam moved her hands, gently helping the baby latch on again.

When the others trudged back in, she was just finishing. She put the baby on the floor, tossing a new towel on the hard wood. They weren't sure what for, but when the baby squatted and peed, they knew. Sam's foot had moved quickly and scooted the towel under the baby, catching the mess.

She motioned for her helpers to sit, and handed them each a baby before grabbing another for herself. The next baby was quicker, and all of the little ones were taken outside. Once they were all fed, Sam took the soiled towels and blankets out of the baby boxes and threw them into the washer with lots of soap and bleach.

Once they were clean, she asked for help getting them all back in.

"You don't have to carry them in. They'll come. I just want help controlling the masses."

"Goat wrangling indoors, Boss." Tony grinned. "Can we get one for the office?" Abby snorted as her friends head flew forward. She'd not even seen Gibbs move.

"Where do you guys work?"

"We work for NCIS."

"Oh, Navy cops."

"You know who we are?"

"Yeah, my man was a Marine." She smirked. "Once a Marine, always a Marine."

"Ooh-Rah." He nodded to the flag. "His?"

"Yep." She studied her fingernails for a moment. "Cancer, four years ago." With that, she walked into the kitchen and started on lunch. The team was quiet for a moment, then moved back to their pass-times, as if knowing she didn't want to dwell on it.

"You know, you should teach one of us to cook on this thing." Gibbs stood by her at the stove as she stirred some goop that looked awful yet smelled wonderful.

"You cook on it like a normal stove."

"Gas or electric?"

"Is there a difference between them?"

"Well, yeah." While the two were discussing the differences in kitchens, Tony and Abby were getting out of control in the living room. Laughter grew louder and louder, and the occasional warning from Ducky when he was no longer able to concentrate on his book sounded over them.

"Sounds like they're having fun." Sam smirked at a particularly loud "not fair". The next sound had her storming into her living room.

"What the hell was that?" Tony stood holding a heavy granite bookend. It had been carved, and had been keeping several record books upright. Now the babies were all upright and screaming. Sam looked furious.

"Sorry." Tony winced. "I..."

"I don't care!" She picked up a baby under each arm and stared out the door. "They're up now, help me get them out." Her four guests helped her, the younger two afraid to make any noise. She seemed really mad.

"I'm so sorry." Abby was near tears.

"It's ok, really. Just surprised me. I'm sorry." The two girls were the only ones outside, as they put the last of the babies in the pen. "My husband made those, and I get kind of, I guess possessive of them."

"I can understand that." Abby smiled. "I'm glad you're not mad."

"Yeah, just don't tell Tony." Sam grinned evilly. "I need the wood box filled." The girls giggled for a moment, before carefully schooling their features. Abby picked up two pieces of wood and followed Sam in, her expression telling a tale all of it's own.

Tony took the message from Abby's morose expression, and joined her in filling the wood box. When they finished, lunch was ready, and Gibbs was hiding a smirk. He'd seen Sam trying to not laugh.

It was only half way through their first day, and he was ready to do something himself. He'd seen the woodworking tools in her living room cupboards. He wondered if there was something he could do. Anything. His prayers were answered soon after they ate when she carried in a project.

Too bad she didn't seem to want help with it. His fingers itched. There was a sanding block just sitting there. He had to do something. Even if it meant slapped hands, he reached out and grabbed for the block.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it.  
>Note: Special thanks to Headbanger Rockstar for being my friend and anchor. Love you! ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb! And to lbinkybella, <strong>"HI!"<strong>  
><strong>Note:<strong> Chapters may be few and far between for a bit... Life threw more curves... my apologies. :(

**Chapter 3**

"Nothing to sand, Gibbs. You know how to wood work?"

"Does Gibbs know how to wood work?" Tony laughed. He received dual glares.

"What ya makin'?"

"Feeders. There's another hammer in that cupboard." Sam nodded toward the sliding doors on the built-in bookshelf. While Gibbs searched in the cupboard, Sam drew out a 3-D design of what she wanted.

Abby and Tony watched with interest for a few more minutes before getting bored and returning to their game of Othello. Ducky was engrossed in his current book, which was a medical manual on the care and feeding of the caprine species. He looked up only when the hammering began. He shook his head in mild annoyance, turning quickly back to his book.

The two woodworkers hammered and joked for hours, until a total of six feeders stood in her living room.

"Now what?"

"Now we stack them out there until Spring. I'll take them out to replace any destroyed in the winds."

"This isn't for now?"

"No, what did you think?" Sam scoffed. "We were gonna carry these out now? Are you nuts? Have you looked out the window?"

"Then why make them now?"

"Think I'll have time later?" She had a point.

########

"I don't like you going out there by yourself, Sam." Gibbs was putting on his coat as he spoke.

"You don't like me going out there?" Her voice was raising by the word. "I go out there by myself every day, Jethro."

"Don't call me Jethro!"

"Oh, that's right, you're Gibbs! Gunny Gibbs." Sam stood toe to toe with him in the entry, her glare as threatening as his. In the other room, Ducky glanced at Abby, who nodded. Tony grinned, and bets were laid.

"I'm not letting..."

"You're not letting me do anything, Mr. Gibbs." Her voice was acid. "I'm telling you. I'm going outside, and you are keeping your from the city, not used to this weather ass in the house!"

"What if you get lost?"

"I've done this several times every day of my life! I know how to deal with this weather! You don't! Don't add to my chore list by being stupid! Stay the hell in here and out of the way!"

"You let Ducky go out." He ground out, realizing even as he spoke how pathetic his argument sounded.

"Yeah, I did." Her voice was quiet, but it was like quiet thunder. "And tonight it's 15 degrees colder, the wind is worse, and there aren't any does in labor. Now get back to the living room and sit down. You want to help, keep the damned stove hot."

##################

Sam worked around in the barn, her multiple layers keeping her reasonably warm as she fed and broke waters on the tubs she had filled for the goats in their pens. She'd cleaned their pens the best she could earlier that day, and new straw had been put down, and tonight she added an extra layer. Several of the older goats got coats put on them, similar to how a horse would.

She checked on the babies one last time, gathered up the dirty milk pails and baby buckets and headed up to the house. Something was off, but she wasn't sure what. Smoke drifted to her nostrils from the chimney, but that just meant the fire was still lit. No goats had been in any stage of labor. They all knew well enough not to on a night like this, and the babies were bedded down and sleeping. Even the babies that had just been moved out from the house were snuggled in and asleep.

She opened the door to find three people staring at her. Three, not four. Shit.

"Why isn't Gibbs with you?" Abby was nearly frantic.

"With me? Why would he be with me?"

"He went out to check on you, my dear." Ducky spoke quietly. "I'm afraid, if he's not with you, that he's lost."

"Dammit!" Sam swore and dropped the buckets she held. "Tony, you know how to shoot, right?"

"Well, yeah, I'm a cop." Sam gave him a dirty look.

"Rifle, not pistol."

"Same difference."

"True." She reached above her head and opened a compartment he'd somehow missed before, and pulled out a shotgun. "Wait fifteen minutes, and then fire into the air." His eyes widened. "I can't see the house with the darkness and snow. Just do it." He nodded. "Every three minutes after that, fire another shot into the air."

"Why so many." She looked at him like he was crazy. "So I can find my way back."

##########

Sam struggled though the snow and wind. The wind was blowing southeast, so chances were that he had gone southeast. There was a fence along that way, so hopefully he'd found it and was somewhere along it. However, if he'd done the usual "blizzard walk" and was going in circles, he could be anywhere. She cussed him out as she walked, going on and on about stupid testosterone driven men. Some stupid testosterone driven men could be great at times. And then... And some great men had moments of testosterone overload. She couldn't figure which Jethro was, but she thoroughly cussed out both kinds.

The first shot fired, and she realized she'd gone north instead of south. No wonder she'd not found the fence. Walking carefully with one heel on the toes of the first foot, she started back to the house. Thankfully her hands weren't numb yet. If she did, by some miracle find him, she could get him to the house. If she found him. The second shot fired, and she was now south. Damn. Walking in the right westward direction, but she was going north and south instead of home. She started to count seconds as she walked. She hit something with her foot. It was big, and she'd lay odds it was Gibbs.

The next shot fired, and she got the direction to head in. He still had a pulse, but he felt cold. Not weather cold, but dead cold. There wasn't much time. As she dragged him, thankfully in the right direction, three more shots fired. Finally, she could see the faint glow of lights. If she could see them, they were only about 20 feet out. He whipmered, and she spoke to him again. A whimper was a noise, and she was glad for it.

She got to the door as Tony was opening it to fire the shotgun once more. His eyes widened.

"Drag him in, and get some towels hot. Undress him in the kitchen. Leave the water out here, and get him onto a bed." Grabbing two buckets, she headed back out, stopping at the edge of the steps. Ducky came to help drag Jethro in, holding one side of the tall man as Tony held the other. By the time they finished their task, Sam was back inside and had gotten rid of her outerwear.

"I'm not sure how to get him warm." Ducky was running through all of the various methods he knew to fend off hypothermia. None dealt with an already hypothermic patient with no modern medicine or machines around.

"Handfuls of snow, Ducky." She handed him a bucket and scooped out a handful herself, surprising him by grabbing hold of Jethro's foot and rubbing the snow into it. "Abby? I need towels. You and Tony soak them down with hot water. Hot as you can stand, and wring them out the best you can. Then get them in here and on his chest!" Sam continued to rub as she spoke. She looked at the ME, who was still standing and watching.

"Doesn't matter how you rub him, Ducky. The rubbing will warm him up, and the snow will stop some of the pain and help stop the frostbite. Start on his hands." Moments later, the room was a flurry of activity as Abby laid hot towels over his chest, Sam rubbed his feet, and Ducky got his hands. Tony stoked the stove, and came in, taking over one of his boss' arms. They worked in silence for several minutes.

"Damn you, Jethro." Sam's voice wasn't as angry as her words. Indeed, she just sounded tired. "Of all the stupid, pin headed things to do, this was it." Her words seemed to give her a second wind, and her new friends worked while listening to a rant they were sure Gibbs would have to sit though again once he woke.

#######

While he was still unconscious and his skin held a decided palor, Jethro's heart rate had increased. Ducky sat back and watched the young woman work, astounded at her knowledge. So this was the difference between people with a classroom education and a life education. He had far more learning than she, and yet his study had been worthless tonight.

Sam had managed to rouse Jethro enough to get a few teaspoons of warm tea down his throat. The brew hadn't been hot, but his eyes had still flown wide with pain as it hit his tongue. She put Abby to the task of rousing the silver haired man every few minutes to make sure he drank, and was still waking up. Extended sleep was still dangerous for him. And if Sam was honest, for herself, as well.

Tony continued with the towels, replacing the hot damp towels with hot ones from the dryer. As Sam had explained, so long as his head, chest, and the rest of his torso were heated, his limbs would take care of themselves. Keeping that in mind, he had taken to wrapping a towel around Gibbs' head, making sure his neck and ears were covered. When he began to shiver, Sam cheered. Shivering was possible only when the nerves registered enough cold to react. Shivering meant he was warming up.

Long after her legs had turned to jelly, Sam continued working. She had to, as she needed her blood to continue flowing quickly, and resting would be disasterous. When she ran out of things to do for Jethro, she started in the kitchen, making sure the grate was cleaned, dishes were at least soaking, and there was plenty of paper and kinlin for the night in case a wind blew the fire out.

The lights flickered, came back on, and then were out.

"Don't worry, I've got flashlights."

"Of course you do. You're like the ultimate Boy Scout."

"No kidding, Tony." Abby's voice sounded from her spot beside Gibbs. A beam of light found her face, and she smiled. "I think I'm gonna get a farting goat to keep Burt company." Sam laughed. These folks were strange, but they were fun.

######################

Once she was finally warm, Sam lay down on the bed beside Gibbs.

"I know I'm gonna sleep." She was already yawning. "I need woke up every 10 minutes or so. Same as Gibbs."

"You want some tea, too?"

"Sure." And with that, Sam lay down facing away from Gibbs and slept.

###########

"This leaves us to figure out sleeping arrangements, my dears."

"No worries, Duckman." Abby grinned. "You and I can snuggle up, and Tony can go sleep with the other animals."

"Hey!" The tall Italian pretended to be angry. "I resemble that remark!"

"One of us needs to stay awake, at least for a while. I've had the most rest today, so why don't I begin?"

"Sure." Tony tried to hide his yawn. "Wake me up in a couple of hours."

"Certainly, my boy."

#############

When the sky should have been turning pink with a sunrise, Sam woke. She vaguely remembered being woken at various times during the night, but wasn't sure of exactly when or how many times. Apparently often enough.

Gibbs rested beside her, his breating slightly labored, but deeper than he'd done last night. She reached up and felt his pulse, unaware of Ducky watching her. She counted, keeping time to the ticking of the kitchen clock. His pulse was strong and hard, his skin was warm, and his color was closer to normal.

"Good morning." Ducky's quiet greeting had her drawing in a quick breath, which led to a coughing bout.

"Mornin'."

"Are you alright, my dear?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Ducky found himself thinking rather acerbicly how wonderful it was to find another Tony to put into the "I"m fine" category of liars. She rolled out of bed, unsteadily making it to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Bathroom." He stopped asking questions and let her go.

When she returned and began to dress for the outdoors, he objected.

"You can't go out there, young lady." His brogue was deeper with the emotion behind his voice.

"Yeah? Who's gonna milk and feed the babies? Who's gonna make sure there's none stuck outside? Who's gonna feed the hay? No offence, but I don't think you can do it all."

"No, certainly not, but I insist you get another hour or two of sleep before going out, and a good meal. You've not eaten since yesterday morning."

"I cooked last night."

"Cooked, yes. But did you eat any?" She couldn't remember.

"That's because you were so tired you didn't realize you didn't eat. Now back in bed."

"Pushy, pushy." Despite her grumbling, she was back under the warm covers seconds later. She'd fed enough to last for the morning last night, and the goats could eat snow if they needed more water. The babies all had a creep-feeder full of pellets, and the bigger ones had flakes of hay. They could make it another hour or two.

Four hours later, she woke to a loud cry as Jethro battled with a cramping body. The freezing muscles had decided to release, and the resulting pain was somthing Sam was sure was close to agony. But at least the dipshit was awake.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer : Don't own it. Just take the characters out to play from time to time.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar for being my awesome beta! Love ya, dude! !

#########

"Hurts?"

"Yeah." Jethro's voice was as quiet as Sam's.

"Any muscle worse than another?"

"Hands, calves." He took in a deep breath. "Headache."

"Yeah, you deserve it. What were you thinking?" He glared at her, and Abby bit back a laugh from where she listened beside their bed. Not many could speak to Jethro like that and live. This woman, however, didn't seem to realize that she was supposed to cower with fear. The conversation made the younger woman wonder about her husband. Abby rose to get some water for more tea, leaving the two talk.

"You want something for pain?"

"Whatever ya got." That he was willing to take anything spoke volumes to Sam about how much pain he was in. It was a pride thing with every Marine she knew. They didn't do pain killers.

"Hungry?"

"No. Just coffee."

"Nope. Caffeine restricts blood flow."

"Coffee." He glared at her the best he could. To his surprise, she just laughed.

"Married to a Marine, Gibbs. The glare doesn't work." She stood from the bed and turned to the door, talking as she walked. "It just makes me smile and bake you cookies." Abby was entering the room with fresh tea, and heard the ending sentence. That alone was enough to have her in near hysterics.

"Has he had much water?"

"No, he's been asleep most of the time."

"Well, he needs water. Make him drink lots and lots of water. No coffee. " Sam yawned. "I've got to get outside."

"What about you getting a lot of water?"

"I'll drink out in the barn," Sam yawned again. "Milk, water; I'll drink." Gibbs let out another groan. "Get him up and into the tub. Hot water, and there's some apple cider vinegar under the sink. About a cup in the water will help. " With that, she was out of the door.

"She's a little short on words." Tony looked after their host with slight confusion.

"No kidding. I half expect to find her sanding a boat in her living room any moment."

"Keep it up, and she'll head-slap you." Gibbs smirked from his spot on the bed.

Out in the barn, Sam worked quickly, feeling her own muscles cramping. She'd not frozen like Gibbs, but she'd gotten cold enough, and with a past run-in with frostbite, she was feeling her exposure. Her cup was nearing the bottom, so she milked into her mug once again.

Her hands warmed up again as she went through the motions of milking the goats. Squeezing the teats as if they were icing bags, starting at the top and closing her fingers toward the bottom, she exercised her joints, forcing the blood to flow. Their udders were warm, nearly one hundred degrees. The milk steamed in the cold air, putting out a pleasant odor of warm milk. When combined with the sweet smell of the grain and the comforting dusty odor of the goats themselves, she had a little spot of heaven on earth. She sighed, wondering when the next Chinook would blow, clearing the roads.

She enjoyed having them around, as there was never a dull moment, but she was also so accustomed to living alone that it was strange to have someone there when she went to the house after chores. It was a pleasure to have dinner ready when she went up to the house. It was something she'd done without for years, and to have it happening now was more comforting than she cared to admit.

Thinking of comfort turned her thoughts to Ducky. The man was amusing with his stories, but his constant chattering made her wonder what made him so nervous and uncomfortable that he had to fill the void of silence. Tony was obviously ashamed of himself for some reason. He felt the need to talk more than Ducky. Abby was some sort of fun monkey puzzle of emotions she wished she had the time to figure out. The girl seemed more like someone who should have neon hair than black pigtails and a studded collar.

Given time, she expected she could form an odd friendship with Abby. The young woman loved to cook, had taken to making fudge like a pro, and was sharp. Tony was smarter than he let on. She'd watched him, and wondered why the man hid his intelligence behind jokes and false bravado. He made no sense.

And then there was Leroy Jethro Gibbs. She'd bit back a laugh when she heard his first name. Jethro Gibbs was bad enough. Add Leroy, and well, the name became priceless.

Gibbs was confusing. While not happy, he was content. While not angry, he was also not calm. He gave a show of being relaxed, but the set of his jaw and shoulders said otherwise. Some of it was the military training. Her own husband had done the same thing. He went into basic as a sloucher and came out rim-rod straight.

He was eager to help, but beyond wood working, he had no idea of what to do. His misguided attempt to help her the other night had nearly ended in his death, yet he seemed to be the sort of person who would do it again. He'd do it again, but his pride would keep him from learning how to do things properly. Perhaps not pride, but stubbornness. It was the same contradiction that had him obviously believing life to be precious, just not his own.

She finished milking the goat she was working on, rubbing down the udder to bring down the last of the milk into the teats. A few more squeezes, and the goat was finished. Sam looked up toward the grain bin and smiled. The doe was still scooping the tasty mix as fast as she could.

"You don't get bothered by having more people, do you?" Polly stopped eating long enough to look at Sam, only to return to cleaning out her dish. Polly was the last goat in the bunch, and Sam scratched each of them as she gave them a single gingersnap for a treat. Releasing the stanchion, she let them go, laughing as they pushed and shoved, trying to be the first out the door to the beet pulp.

These were the last four, and she was ready to go in. She'd fed the babies, most everyone had hay and fresh water, and now it was time to face the weather again. She bid good night to all of the animals, and slid open the door.

With her hand on the rope at her shoulder, she walked to the house. The sun was beginning to break through the snow, and the flakes were lessening. All signs pointed to a Chinook blowing in sometime that evening or early the next morning.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Just play with it. lol

Note: Thanks to my amazing beta, Headbanger Rockstar! Love ya, dude! !

About half way to the house, Sam had a thought and turned back around, heading to the barn once again. She needed to get something out of the storage area in the rafters. Tony'd been complaining about not having a TV to watch. She had to have that old VCR and that black and white TV up there. She knew she'd given his to a young man following a riding accident, but then an elderly neighbor had given her one in a will.

She climbed the ladder up to the hay loft and crossed the catwalk to the other side. The hay was kept on the east side, the straw and storage were on the west, with a four foot catwalk between them.

Sam found the TV and VCR along with a small collection of movies. The ones on top were documentaries, which her husband had totally loved. Sam wasn't even sure if she'd ever seen most of them. If they did play, she'd been working while they were on. He'd watched most of them in the last four months of his life, when he'd been unable to do anything. Until that time, he'd worked like a mad-man trying to get as much done in advance on the farm.

She put the small TV on the pallet that lowered with a pulley, loading it with the movies and VCR along with it. She put it over the edge and lowered it carefully. Once it was on the floor, she climbed down and loaded the junk onto a sled to take to the house. She shook her head. It was times like this when she realized how odd her life was. She'd not even thought of this TV since she'd put it in storage after her husband passed. And that had been years ago.

Thinking of him made her think of the three men in the house. They'd not been able to do laundry, and while they'd only been on the farm for two days, she was sure they were all ready to have clean clothes. Abby could borrow some of her things, and if need be, she could stitch up a quick skirt to go along with one of her tops if she didn't have anything that could easily be tightened to fit the younger woman. Climbing the ladder again, Sam let down the plastic tub that held clothing. A lump tightened her throat, and tears stung her eyes. The thought of seeing someone else in his clothes was something she had a short time to get used to. A time as short or as long as the trip to her house.

Once she reached the house again, she was nearly attacked by a celebrating Tony and jumping Abby. Their faces fell when the opened the box and saw the dusty VHS movies. Tony held up one of the videos and gave a fake grin accompanied by a slightly hysterical giggle. Sam shook her head.

Ducky was refilling the stove. He looked up, smiling and beginning a tale of when he was in the Serengeti and witnessed the Great Migration of Wildebeest firsthand. Tony groaned as he carried the small TV to Sam's desk where she'd already told him he'd find an outlet. While Ducky told his tale full of smelly animals, dust storms, and a guide with four wives, Gibbs cocked an eyebrow at the plastic tub Sam had carried in.

"No more movies. This is clothes. Figured you guys would like showers." She peeled off the top and unzipped a clear plastic bag inside. After swallowing hard, she pulled up a shirt, showing it to Gibbs. "You guys can wear these. I'll get something for Abby."

The smell of Old Spice and pipe tobacco drifted up from the pile of carefully preserved clothes. Jethro lifted two USMC t-shirts, much like the ones he had at home. They were a little larger than he usually wore. A dress shirt was next. Its tag proclaimed it to be Big and Tall. Its long arms and torso gave testimony to a much taller man. When he dug out pants, his suspicions were confirmed. The man had been huge. Near seven feet if the inseam of the pants were an indication.

He picked up a set of clothes and headed to the bathroom. He'd had no clean clothes after his last bath, and he'd been feeling it. A change of clothes would be feel great. When he emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, Sam was back in the kitchen, having delivered a change of clothing to Abby. She looked at Gibbs, quickly looking away.

"We'll get our clothes washed soon." A nod was her only response, and Gibbs knew he'd have reacted the same way if he had to pull out the box he kept in his attic of Shannon or Kelly's clothes. A thought more, and he decided she was being nicer. He'd have not provided the clothes.

A happy squeal sounded from the living room as Abby dug farther into the movie box. She'd unearthed a treasure trove of 80's monster movies, James Bond, and comedies that hadn't seen the light of day in years. Some of them, DiNozzo hadn't even watched in years.

Sam smirked, glad that her guest's boredom was at an end. Provided, at least, that the thing worked. A cheer combined with the opening theme to James Bond answered that question.

"They'll be occupied for days." Gibbs chuckled, sounding for a moment like a long-suffering parent.

"Good. Then they'll stop getting into trouble."

"No, that's my job now." Jethro at least had the good graces to look chagrined.

"Speaking of that, I want to talk to you about your little adventure."

"I know I screwed up."

"I'll not argue that, but I want to find out what happened, so if you decide to help again, you can do it safely. If that happens again, you may not survive." Sam poured herself a cup of coffee. "You can have some now. You're up and moving. If you start to ache, stop drinking." Once they both had coffee, they headed to the living room to figure this out.

Jethro admitted to taking his hand off of the rope for only one or two steps when he'd sneezed. That one or two steps, and he was searching for the rope. He'd walked back what he thought was four steps in the right direction, and then he went back four steps.

"You started on the blizzard walk." Sam nodded. "Did that myself a few years ago. If you do let go of the rope, keep your feet planted. Don't try to walk to find it. You can bend and stretch." At Gibbs' confused look, she stood, drinking the last of her coffee.

"Come on. Let's go out in the day, and I'll show you what I mean." He put on his coat and started to walk out. "Hey, don't try that yet, Gibbs." She handed him a thick pair of hunting mittens. "Put these on, and are your feet warm enough? I can get you another pair of socks."

"I'll be fine."

"You've gone hypothermic." At his blank look, she went on to explain. "Frostbite, even mild frostbite, is painful every time you get cold. Especially right after getting bit."

"I'm warm." He shrugged, and she marveled at his thick head.

"Suit yourself." She tucked the mittens into her pocket before slipping her own gloves on. They were out for all of five minutes before he asked for the extra protection of the mittens. His fingers were painfully cold, even in his own gloves.

She showed him how to plant his feet and what she meant by reaching for the rope while planted. They walked along, talking and teaching until they'd reached the barn. His feet were aching with the cold, and he was barely able to take a step. The enormity of his near death hit him, and he was reeling with the weight of what had happened. He literally owed this woman his life.

"Come on, let's get you inside."

"I can't get back to the house." Gibbs grunted with pain every step he took.

"In the milk room with you. Go sit on a stand. I'll get the heater turned on." Gibbs nodded and started to sit, embarrassed when his knees started to lock. Sam had been watching and rushed to his side. "Here ya go." She held his arms and provided a counter-balance so he could sit without falling.

Once he was down, she went back to the heater, turning it up a little more. She peeled off one mitten and glove without telling him what she was doing or explaining. He figured he'd just trust her on this one. She certainly knew what she was doing.

At first, the gentle massage she gave his hand was painful. Her skin felt warm, nearly hot to the touch. He hissed in pain as she began to maneuver his fingers. Minutes passed, during which he felt relief coming to him. She peeled off his other mitten and glove, starting on the still cold hand.

She hadn't looked up from her task, which gave him time to really look at her. Her eyebrows were thick and nearly brown. Her hair was such a deep auburn that until she was in the sun, it looked almost a flat brown. In fact, he'd thought it was brown until he'd seen her outside from the window. One of the few times the wind had died down for a moment, she'd taken off her hat and scratched her head. Her hair had been a rainbow of color in the light.

Sam's lips were thick. While not so thick that they were unattractive, but they were definitely broad. Her nose was cute. He smirked at himself for that assessment. It was wide, not overly, but told of a mixed heritage. Her skin was a deep red-tan, even in the winter, confirming that fact. He guessed that at least one of her ancestors had come from one of the Southwestern tribes. He'd seen the same features and skin tone on many of the people when he and Shannon had taken Kelly to Santa Fe on vacation.

He was surprised that hands as gentle as hers could be so rough and work worn. While she worked his hands and got blood flowing again, she never exerted more pressure than was absolutely necessary. He paid attention to the feel of her fingers as they caressed and rubbed over his wrist and between his fingers. There was a strength to her touch that caught him by surprise. He figured she'd have strong hands, but hadn't realized just how strong.

Tony had made the passing comment that their guest was fluffy. He chuckled about her being fluffy around the middle, and then really got laughing about her Popeye arms. As she rubbed his hands, Gibbs realized that she was far from fat. She had dragged him to the house from the storm, he'd seen her move things in the house he wasn't sure he could have lifted, and now to pay attention to the feel of her hands on his, well, he'd be telling Tony a thing or two about their hostess.

"I can feel you thinking, Gibbs. What's going on in that brain of yours?" He fumbled for words for a moment before coming up with something.

"Um, just lost in thought." Sam laughed.

"When my husband said things like that, it usually meant he was thinking something he didn't want to admit to." Gibbs smiled, ducking his head in embarrassment. He'd been caught.

"Thinking about you." Her eyes shot up, meeting his. He shrugged. "Wondering what makes you stay out here by yourself. How it is that your touch can be so soft, and yet your hands so rough."

Sam started to laugh. She blushed and told about being invited to her friends' Valentine's Party last year. Sally went to a church that was into "helping" single people, and she felt it was time Sam moved on and found a new Valentine. Gibbs watched fascinated as the hardened farmer he'd seen before melted away and turned into a beautiful woman.

She blushed and fairly giggled as she recounted the story of being dragged from store to store to find a dress. He grinned as she described finally getting fed up and buying material. Then they'd gone to another store to find a shirt to match. Gibbs laughed as she told of finding one with a little bit of lace that she'd never have chosen for herself, but Sally assured her it was perfect.

"Did you like it?"

"So much so that it got thrown into the rag bin the next day."

"Yeah, you don't seem the lacy kind of girl to me." She laughed outright.

"Not at all." She shot him a wink. "When we got married, we talked about jeans and t-shirts."

"No way."

"Oh, yes." She laughed. "Neither of us liked to dress up, and while he could have worn his dress blues, I'd need a dress."

"And you didn't want one."

"Not one that I had to spend months finding, and that I'd wear only once." She shrugged. "We'd known one another since I was four, so it wasn't like we didn't know we could make it for years."

"Since you were four?"

"The benefits of being from the middle of nowhere. Slim pickings." Her smile faded a bit.

"You didn't love him?" Her head shot up again, anger burning in her eyes.

"I loved him more than I can explain."

"Didn't mean to make you mad." Sam's eyes filled with tears.

"I'm sorry. I'm just so used to guys who say there's no way I could have loved him, or that I'm not getting remarried because I'm …" She cut off with a shrug, and Gibbs figured it was best to not ask.

She sat silently holding his hand. Her fingers stopped their movements, and he was at a loss. When tears began to run down her cheeks, he found himself pulling her to him. She slid from the bench she was sitting on and knelt on the floor between his legs, resting against his chest as she wept.

"I'm sorry." She finally managed after a while. "I guess I don't want to admit to myself how lonely I get out here sometimes." He hugged her tighter, knowing exactly how she felt. He'd been that lonely for years in the middle of a city.

They stood after a bit, Gibbs helping Sam up from where she had been. Her knees cracked and groaned as much as his did at times. She bent them a bit, letting them settle as he watched.

"What's this about not dating and being so lonely?"

"Most guys out here think that if they marry me, I'll turn the farm over to them and let them do whatever they want with it, and that if we get divorced, they'll get it. So I'm not interested in them. The rumor in town is that I'm , um, not interested in men." She shrugged. "A friend, not Sally, decided to set me up with a guy. He showed up with a suitcase and an engagement ring."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"Nope. He apparently didn't understand what "come for dinner so we can talk" meant."

"What did you do?"

"Told him to get the hell out of my house." She grinned. "Of course, the next time I went to town, I got a little lecture from the bigmouth and told that if I want to get married, I need to be nice. I told her to shove it somewhere anatomically impossible, and viola, rumors."

"I'll bet." The two stood down in the barn for a bit, still in the warmth of the milk room.

"Well, it's time I do the afternoon feeding."

"Want some help?" He'd enjoyed the time with her, and wanted to keep it going.

"Sure. If you want to help, you can come and I'll have you feed while I throw down hay."

"Throw down hay?"

"Yeah. I store most of it up in the loft. That way the girls can't eat it too quickly."

"Want me to do that?"

"And what happens if you get a cramp? You'll be up in the loft."

"Hate it when you make sense." The laugh he earned was worth the comment.

Tony and Abby were about half way though the first of the Bond movies when she noticed how long their boss had been outside.

"Think they're ok?"

"I'm sure they are." Ducky broke in as the voice of reason. "We are talking about Sam here. Were it only Jethro, I would worry."

"I wonder if she's Samantha?" Ducky smiled at Tony's question.

"I called her that once, and was informed that under no circumstances was I to call her that."

As the team rambled through the rest of the movie, Gibbs cut open hay bales and put flakes of hay into feeders according to her instructions. The whole time, bale after bale was thrown over the edge of the loft. When thirty had come down, she climbed down as he watched. The ladder was straight up with no angle at all. Twelve rungs of wood fastened between poles of the pens.

He watched her as she moved, and was once again surprised. Her pants tightened on the bent leg, and the muscles he'd known to be present were shown in stunning vividness. He'd seen discus throwers with less build.

He helped her stack the bales, following the same pattern he'd noticed two nights before when they'd first come into the barn. He got close to Jag's stall, and the horse nickered. Gibbs reached over to pet the tall horse and was surprised when the animal began to lip at his palm.

"What's he doing?"

"Oh, he wants his candy." Sam grinned and held out a piece of hardened tack from her pocket. "Horse candy just put it on your palm and let him nibble it off." Gibbs held out the candy and smirked when Jag reached out and plucked it carefully from his hand.

When he'd finished playing with his new buddy, Sam asked if he was ready to go back to the house.

"No. I don't want to be that cold again."

"We can get ya warm again." Gibbs felt his face flush. He wanted her to get him warm, alright. Just not in the way she was meaning. When she winked and pushed him aside playfully, he reacted in a way that would have gotten him sued in DC.

He kicked her in the butt. Not hard, but she turned around, laughing. He was shocked when she got him back. He didn't' think someone so…large… could move that fast. Or aim that well. Before long, they were engaged in a full on "touch" war. Light kicks, dodges, shoulder taps, and belly pokes were struck one after the other as they laughed.

"I've not done this since Ellis was alive." Her eyes were dancing with humor and memories. Jethro took advantage of her distraction to place another soft blow.

"Ellis. That your husband?" He barely blocked a shoulder tap from Sam, but totally missed the foot that flew toward his calf. "Ouch!"

"Pay better attention, then." Sam laughed at the indignant look he shot her. The speed of their strikes increased, their laughter ceased as they concentrated, paying attention to one another, making sure they were seeing what the other was doing.

"He do this often with you?"

"Yeah. I got used to sneak attacks."

"Nice." Moments passed in quiet concentration.

"So. You do this with your wife? Is it a Marine thing, or just a crazy guy thing?"

Gibbs froze, not sure of what to say. He'd played like this with Shannon, but hadn't with any of his ex-wives. It had been fun, a way of spending time with her when he wasn't torturing himself by watching romantic comedies or shopping.

Sam noticed his expression and stopped moving. Her arms dropped to her sides, realization washing over her.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"No, it's ok." Gibbs drew in a deep breath. "My first wife." He swallowed hard, looking away. Sam just waited. "Her name was Shannon. " He shrugged, this time looking down at his fingernails. Something was fascinating about his thumb. "We had a daughter, named Kelly. They died."

"I'm sorry." Sam stepped forward and without permission reached for Gibbs hand. She held it between both of hers, rubbing gently. He zoned out for a moment, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. When he began to speak, it was as if someone had pulled a lever, and he spewed out their story. He told the story from the moment of first seeing her in a window to talking to her while waiting for the train to their marriage, Kelly's birth, and their deaths.

She got him to talking things out, and he told her of his next three mistakes along with countless girlfriends, all in an attempt to replace Shannon and Kelly. Sam listened as he talked of how he'd given up on love. She knew exactly how he felt. She'd had real love once, too, and the thought of settling for less churned her stomach, the same as it did his.

Gibbs pulled her in for a hug, simply seeking comfort. If anyone understood how he felt, she did. She relaxed into his hold, letting his heartbeat wash over her. His was a little slower than Ellis' had been, but was just as strong.

"We should get back to the house." Sam's voice was quiet.

"Yeah." Neither of them moved. It was some undetermined time later when he loosened his hold. "Come on. My feet are getting cold again."

"Alright." He followed her to the house, making sure he kept hold of the rope. They stepped inside, and he announced that he was going for a shower.

Abby was in the kitchen and took in her boss' red eyes. She shot a quick look over to Sam, surprised when the farmer had the same puffy look. Her mind began to whir with questions.

Tony came out, repeating a question he'd asked Abby just before they had come back inside. He took in his boss' disheveled hair and the boot print on his butt. He started to make a smart comment, but stopped when he caught their expressions.

Something had happened out there in the barn. Something big. And he wasn't going to risk the mother of all head-slaps to find out.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer : Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar for being my beta! Love ya, dude! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: In regards to a snarky review I got, I'd like to make an announcement. Sam is not me. I am perfectly capable of making a new character in a story I'm creating and even describe her in great detail without her being me. Yes, I tend goats, as does she. That's where the idea came from. However, I did not describe myself in the story, and if there's a romance to evolve, it will not be "me" in the story. A back-handed compliment containing an insult is an insult with a slight compliment to make yourself feel better about dishing it out. IF you don't want to see it on your permanent reviews, don't put it on anyone else's. This is what PM's are for. I know this is harsh, but I've had this happen now on all of my stories, and am sick of it. Play nice, folks. We're here to have fun. If you want to say something that is snarky or rude, do it in a PM that can be erased. Not on a public review. I've had several PM's in regards to this review, half asking if I'm writing about myself, and half upset that someone left a slightly flaming review with a "I want more" at the end. I will write more, but I'll not take crap. I've had enough of that lately. This will answer all questions and concerns, because I'm not replying to them individually. And, I do want to say thank you to all of those who sent PM's rather than reviews with concerns.

I may use memories from my life to create a scene, but we all do it. We use some ideas that are brand new, some ideas from stories we've heard, and some ideas that are remakes and changes of memories. And it's ok. That's all part of creativity. Taking a part of our existence and changing it into something we can share. So before you ASSUME someone has made the decision to put themselves into a story, ask. It's the decent thing to do.

#####

Tim and Ziva were frantically trying to locate their team members. They should have been back to work by now. Even Vance was concerned as he sat chewing his toothpick in his office. He'd made the decision to have them drive back and not wait for a flight in a safe hotel room.

Vance knew his wife was going to kill him if he was the cause of the teams' passing. She'd had a thing for Tony for years, mothering over him every time she got a chance, and when Gibbs had stopped in that night, she had taken a shine to the man. And Leon didn't want to have to think about what would happen when his daughter heard that Abby was missing. He swore and picked up a phone, dialing Fornell. The man was bound to yell, but the FBI agent would have better resources to help find their missing members. Shit. A favor to one of Gibbs' best friends.

Hours later, they had a fix on the route Gibbs and crew had taken. Their last stop had confirmed that they'd gotten gas, a large Caf-Pow, a 24 oz coffee, 24 oz hot tea, and the same size of hot chocolate. The odd group of people were memorable, as they were the only out of towners to visit the small station in the days before the storm.

When Vance heard of the severity of the storm, and figured out how far they could have gotten when it hit, he swore again. SecNav was now breathing down his neck, his wife had been told by Cynthia, and he'd received an angry phone call from home. The day just kept getting better.

States away, the team looked out the window as the snow finally came to a stop. The wind was still blowing slightly, but even it was dying down. By nightfall, the wind would be fully stopped.

Sam came back inside, smiling as she came. "Weather's changing!"

"Yeah!" Abby fairly bounced on her toes. "It looks like the wind is down."

"It's stopped. Just wait a bit, and the Chinook will start. Your car will be free by this time tomorrow."

"What's the Chinook?"

"The way I was told the story was that a young girl named Chinook married Glacier when they moved from their traditional warm lands to his frozen lands. Her people left, but she longed to join them. She asked her husband to let her go visit, and he refused, thinking she would never return.

"She sent a message to her people, who visited her with visions of snowflakes and promises to come get her. Glacier saw her receiving a vision, and became angry, refusing to let her have time to dream. Her people came anyway, their numbers vast, and their warriors overwhelmed her ferocious husband.

"They encased him in ice, leaving him to be as lonely as he had forced her to be. She would have returned to him had he let her visit her people, but he had turned her heart cold to him. Now, when she thinks of him, she wishes his heart had not been so filled with anger, and she sends warmth to melt the ice. The warmth she sends comes in the form of a wind that melts the ice and snow. "

"How will we know when it starts to blow?" Sam just grinned. They'd know.

Tim finally got a message from a gas station beyond where the storm was, and it confirmed that his boss and his traveling companions didn't make it that far. But now they'd managed to take the search base from 30.000 miles north and south to 400 miles of a single highway. Now they had a shot.

Vance got an update from his favorite agent as he was on the COMM with SecNav. He grimaced and relayed the message to his boss, who told him to call and see if he could get in touch now that the storm had passed.

Leon motioned for the COMM to be shut down, and when he thought it was, he dialed Gibbs. Unknown to him, SecNav had sent a text only message to the COMM controllers. He wanted to hear if the rumors of Vance's dislike of Gibbs were exaggerated or real.

"Agent Gibbs. This is Director Vance." Leon was nearly shouting into the phone. "Call in the next two hours, or you and your team are finding new jobs. Isn't one of your own rules to never be unreachable? No excuses. The weather hasn't been that bad. You've got two hours, starting now."

SecNav had recorded the conversation, and it would be used in the final meeting he would have with the current director. He wondered briefly if Gibbs would be willing to take the job. He could be a bastard, but he was good at what he did. DiNozzo was far past being ready for a promotion, and Tim would be a nice second. Ziva was improving, learning more all the time. She wasn't ready for a promotion to second yet, but then again, a team could only have one second.

All of this hinged on Gibbs and company still being alive, of course.

The stranded agents and their host sat down to lunch, and started to eat their sandwiches and beans. It was more like picnic fare, but was surprisingly good. They'd not known she had a freezer full of frozen lunchmeats in the barn. They'd eaten the last of the turkey, apologizing as they did, only to have her produce another frozen package.

The baked beans were hot and sugared to perfection, making a dessert-like addition to the meal. Abby had been thrilled to learn how to make cottage cheese, and a dish of the chilled cheese sat on the table as well. They passed dishes and chatted, all laughing and telling jokes.

Suddenly the house shook as if it had been hit by a train. Tony nearly dropped the plate of sandwiches as he passed it to Ducky, and Abby had stood, her eyes wide. All of them looked to Sam, their eyes wide.

"Chinook." She went back to eating as if nothing had happened.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Don't own it

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar for being my beta. You rock, dude! !

The Chinook wind blew all night. It kept most of the house's occupants awake with its fierce whistles and the pressure from a different direction. Only Sam slept soundly on her pallet on the floor. When the sun finally let its rays peek over the horizon, Abby heard the door shut, and she knew their host was out the door already.

Sam had been sneaking around for two hours already. She knew her friends would need to get on the road today. So she'd been getting the chores done. Most of the goats were milked, the babies were already fed, and the sun, satisfied with the greeting its long fingers received, lifted its head.

The land woke as wildlife came out, hunting for their breakfast. The goats were all munching hungrily, as if they'd been starved for days. The Chinook always brought changes. The wind would wake the goats at times, and they'd try to get into the center of the barn where the food was kept out of sheer boredom and that horrible sense of misguided humor that makes up the mentality of a goat.

If it caused trouble, they were into it. If it was something that could bring mayhem, they found a way to do it. And if it got their "mama" to laugh, it was too good to pass up. But getting extra food was just a want. After all, what are four stomachs for, if not to fill to brimming every moment of every day? Or, at least that's what a goat thinks. It's all about the stomach. Or stomachs. Or, the simple act of chewing.

But whatever it was, it got worse on days with a Chinook. And Sam had spent the morning in a blur of laughter and griping. Laughing at the antics of the goats, while complaining and disciplining for the same things a moment later when they did it again, only in a more messy way.

When Pavon grabbed a feed sack on her way out of the milk room and refused to give it up, running through the barn shaking it side to side, Sam growled at first, but laughed a moment later when the image of Tony prancing goofily through the house with Abby's clean clothes held just out of reach flashed through her mind. She was gonna miss these guys.

Finally she was ready to go. Everyone was put away, the now-shredded feed sack was in the trash, and the goats were eating happily. It was a nice start to a good day. She went out and watched as the sun finished its sleepy climb.

The only thing missing was a cup of coffee. But the smell was sure to have everyone awake and out of bed. And the day was going to be crazy enough. She wanted time alone. It wasn't often that she had company, and having them leave was going to be harder than she wanted to admit.

Sam had found a funny friend in Abby. The young woman was a walking contradiction, and the mystery that was Abby was a puzzle Sam wondered if some guy would ever have the chance to figure out. She was sure that if she did find a boyfriend, that he'd be kept on his toes.

Tony was fun. Plain and simple. He'd had some hurt early in life that he held close to his chest. That hurt kept him acting the clown, but the seriousness and tension that lurked under his whitewash made Sam wonder if he'd ever be able to really move past his past. After a moment of consideration, she thought that perhaps Tony and Abby would be cute together. If they'd manage to not kill one another and keep the lights on. They'd spend so much time playing that bills may or may not be paid.

Ducky was a puzzle. He was intelligent, there was no doubt there. The more she listened and watched, the less certain she was of her original assessment. He didn't seem to be as nervous as she'd first thought. In fact, he seemed to be the most grounded of the bunch. And his stories were amusing. She'd found herself jotting some of them down so she could repeat them as amusing tales to tell her friends. Something new to talk about at the markets.

Gibbs was less concerning to her now. She understood him at last. He was hurting. And afraid to move on. She'd wrestled with that fear, and wondered if she could say anything to help him understand that moving on wasn't bad. Living after the death of a loved one was a wonderful way to honor their memory and the love they'd given, not a detraction to their place in a person's life.

She looked towards the house and saw movement. Someone was awake. May as well go in. Soon enough it would be time to load them up in the truck and get them to town. She'd already been to look at their car, and it was still buried beneath wind-hardened snow and ice. It wasn't moving any time soon. Neither were their bags, which were in the trunk. Maybe in a couple more days. But not today. The ice was simply too thick.

She stretched and cracked her neck, giving herself a moment to get out of her strange and detached head-space before going up to the house. The door opened, and Gibbs stepped out, his cell phone in hand. He held it up and moved it around, arching his arm, squinting, moving again, only to take a step and move once more.

"Good morning." Sam's voice carried over the snow. With the die-down of the wind, sounds were multiplied, just as if they were in water.

"Morning." Gibbs furrowed his brow and checked his phone again.

"Signal's hard to get out here." He just hummed in reply. "Well, don't leave the yard."

"What, don't want to look for me again?"

"Not particularly."

"Gee, thanks." She grinned at him.

"You're welcome, Mr. Cranky pants. So when you're done hunting for a signal you won't get, come inside where it's warm."

He continued grumbling and searching for signal for a bit longer before coming through the door.

"Can I use your phone?" The other three looked at one another. This could get interesting. The house wasn't big enough to hide one…

"I don't have one."

"You don't…" He sputtered for a moment. "How can you not have a phone?"

"The nearest phone lines are fifteen miles away." Sam shrugged. "It would cost over $2000.00 to get a line in here. There's no point to it. I grew up here without a phone, I've lived here all these years without a phone, and when I need to talk to someone, I go to town or send out a letter."

"Are you serious?" Tony was waiting for his boss to explode, so he decided to jump in. "What did you do when your husband was sick?"

"A nurse drove out once a week. Neighbors came to check every day." She shrugged. "I guess it's a different life than what you have."

"Pshaw!" Tony made the strange sound his grandfather had always used when he'd told a tall tale. "That's not different, that's insane! I thought you were weird with no internet! No…" His head jolted forward with a slap.

"Enough, DiNozzo."

"Shutting up, Boss." Sam smirked.

"As soon as you're done beating one another up, we can head to the airport. I've got the chores done."

Gibbs' eyes narrowed.

"How far away is the airport?"

"Only about four hours." Sam shrugged.

"So you'll drive a total of eight or nine hours after working for at least three outside this morning, and have another three waiting for you when you get home?"

"Yeah." Sam shrugged. She pulled the large frying pan down and started to get it hot on the stove. "You guys get showers, and we can eat in a bit."

"No." Gibbs voice was like cold iron.

"What?"

"You're not going to do that. NCIS will find us. I'm sure Tim's already got our location about narrowed down. It's too far of a drive."

"Oh, and I suppose it doesn't matter if I've done it before?" Sam was staring at the man she considered a new friend. Where was this coming from?

"You've never had to do it for four people who will have someone else here to pick them up without putting you out even more." His eyes narrowed. "Unless you want us gone today."

"No!" Sam felt like throwing the hot skillet at the dense man before her. "That's not what I said! I know you four miss home. I know you have work, and being here keeps you from it. I know it's a small house, and you're probably going crazy in it!" She fought the urge to stamp her foot. "Stay for a month, I don't care! I'm just thinking of you guys!" Gibbs let out a long breath.

"And that's all I'm doing, Sam. Thinking of you. McGee will have someone searching the area, if he and Ziva aren't on their way here themselves already. Just wait."

"Fine." Sam turned to the stove, tossing another piece of wood in. Tears burned her eyes, and she wondered if she'd be too lonely to keep going out here after her guests were gone. She'd gotten used to company and laughter again. Even though it was small, her house could be an empty, silent tomb.

Tony and Abby retreated to the living room where they quietly picked out a movie. Maybe Sam would want to watch with her, as she was done outside. Abby shook her head, telling Tony her thoughts that Sam wanted some time. Ducky joined his young friends and seated himself for the movie. Jethro was still standing out in the kitchen, and the old ME didn't need a degree in psychology to know that the two needed to talk.

Gibbs waited until he heard the sound of Bond starting up before he spoke. Sam still hadn't turned around, and he knew she was purposefully trying to ignore him. He'd probably have been better if she'd let them take them, but to have her driving while she was that tired scared him shitless. He didn't want to trade her kindness for a car accident or her death.

Now, to find the words. That was the problem. The words. Sam saved him the trouble.

"What is your problem, Gibbs? Do you think I'm stupid? Can't take care of myself? Don't know my own limitations?" She whirled around, finally facing him. "I've taken care of myself out here for a long time, Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

"That's not what I was saying."

"Close enough to it!"

"Not hardly!" Their voices were raising with each verbal hit. "I just don't want you to put yourself out like that!"

"Put myself out? Put myself out?" Sam was shouting to match Gibbs, her voice booming through the small house. Tony turned the volume up on the TV. "If I didn't want to help, I'd have left all of you in the damned car!"

"Maybe you should have!" He turned and slammed out the door, the glass cracking as he slammed it behind him. Sam swore, hollered that breakfast was ready, and followed her friend. He'd gotten to the barn just as she left the yard. His angry mutterings were still carrying across the snow to her ears.

She stormed into the barn behind him, looking around for where he was. She didn't have to search long or far. He'd gone into the grain room and was beating the tar out of a sack of oats.

"That really gonna make you feel better?" Sarcasm wasn't what she needed right now, but it was what came out.

"Yeah. I'm pretending it's you." He was just as sarcastic as she was. "Damn mule-headed woman."

"Mule-headed? Me? You're the one trying to tell me what I can and can't do! And you've not known me that long! Hell, I was married to Ellis for nearly 20 years and he knew better than to do that!"

"See, that's the problem!" He towered over her, the veins in his neck popping out. "You don't let anyone help! You don't let anyone be there for you! You've done everything! Cooking, chores, rescuing us, getting us clothes, and dammit, I don't want you to drive us because it scares me shitless that you may fall asleep at the wheel, and I don't want to lose you!"

"I'm not yours to lose!" They regarded one another with cold anger for a moment. Her last words echoed in his mind like a cannon. She was right. She wasn't his. He'd not had anyone that really was his since Shannon. Sam understood. He saw her move, take a slight step forward, and he reacted.

His mouth covered hers, his tongue forcing its way past her lips. She welcomed the intrusion, letting passion burn through her. The thought crossed her mind that this was wrong, she'd promised herself she'd not shame herself ever by starting the habit of one night stands.

Minutes later, their clothes shifted, hair in disarray, lips swollen, and skin aflame, they parted.

"I can't do this, Jethro." Her gasped breaths argued the point, but he nodded, backing away. "You're not staying, I'm not going, and I don't do one-night stands."

Gibbs nodded again, still catching his breath. He tucked his shirt back in and pointed to her shoulder.

"Lost a button."

"Great." She huffed.

"I'm sorry, Sam." Her eyes narrowed.

"I thought you didn't say sorry." He shrugged.

"I do when I'm wrong, and I'm wrong." They were silent for a moment. "You're a good person, and I shouldn't have done that." Sam grinned.

"Well, I can't say I didn't enjoy it." Gibbs smirked. "But I can't."

"I know. I've ruined so many lives by trying to find love again."

"When love comes once." Their eyes met and they smiled at one another. Sam amended her last statement. "It's possible for a second time, but it takes a lot of work."

"Yeah. And living closer than 1500 miles to one another." Sam laughed.

"If you're in DC, it's about 1900." Gibbs grunted and pulled her into a friendly hug.

"Friends?"

"Yep. Works for me."

"Good. But you're still not driving us."

Miles away, Tim nearly shouted with joy. The weather had blown over, and the navigational system in the car was working once again. They had an exact position. Ziva was watching over his shoulder and she raced to her computer, getting them flights on the nearest town and setting up a rental car once there. McGee called the local authorities, who said they'd send someone out to check the car for survivors. The plow drivers who had passed that area hadn't seen a car, but it could be buried.

Tim heard those words and his heart fell. It had been four days, and if they were trapped in a snow-buried car, chances of survival were slim. An hour later, as they prepared to board their flight, Tim's phone rang. Their car had been found, but it was empty.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar, who is the best beta ever! Love ya, chickie! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: Just a reminder that this story is wildly AU and OOC! But, it's fun! lol

#######

Robert swore as he wondered where the occupants of the car had gone. He was a new transfer from a large city in Washington. He'd sign up for training in another state, not knowing he'd be stuck out here in the middle of BFE.

"The car is here, but it's empty." He waited a moment, and his radio crackled.

"Well, start checking the farms."

"I don't see any farms."

"What mile marker are you on?"

"73.6" He waited once again for a reply to crackle through.

"Sam's place is the closest. Go down County Road 74. One mile down on the west you'll see an orange triangle hanging on a fence. That's her driveway. Go past the little shack that's closest to the road. The house closest to the barn is hers."

"Why not call to see if they're there?" Dispatch actually laughed over the radio. He started driving.

The roads off of the highway were unplowed, and he drove slowly, his truck in 4-wheel mode. Even with the 4-wheel capability and chains on his tires, he was nearly pulled into the ditch several times. He swore once again and downshifted to slow his speed. He wondered what he'd done to anger the powers that be to get him sent here. Why couldn't he have been sent to somewhere warm like LA?

Gibbs and Sam had returned to the house, none of their companions being any wiser of their conflict… resolution. Sam grimaced as she had the sudden thought that kissing Gibbs had been like making out with her brother, or it would have been if she'd had one.

"Why the look on your face? You're like a cat with a hairball." Abby laughed at Sam's expression.

"Oh, just thought of something random. Some gross idea."

"Wanna share?"

"No, because then I'll have to talk about it." Abby laughed and held up the deck of cards.

"Wanna play a game? All your chores are done."

"Ever play spoons?"

"No." Tony jumped into the conversation. "How do you play that?" Before long, all five were seated around the table, playing a game that Ducky proved to be the sneakiest at. Tony had just earned the right to be a "spoo" when there was a knock on the door.

They all jumped, surprised that someone was there. Sam went to the door, and was followed back by the obviously disgruntled officer.

He was already radioing in to dispatch that he'd located the missing team, and the team heard the answer that Tim and Ziva were flying out to join the search. Robert gave them the location of where he'd found the team, reported that they all seemed in good health, and were at the moment playing a game of some sort.

Tim and Ziva landed not long after, and called the sheriff's office for further directions. Tim smiled as he was informed of his team mates being safe and healthy. He told Ziva, and they zipped towards the location they were told with as much speed as they dared.

At the farm, anticipation was building. They were getting ready to travel. Sam had taken Tony and Gibbs out to the car, and they'd decided that the car was going to be too frozen in to get anything out. The back bumper was totally iced in, as was the trunk. There was no way, without dismantling the backseat and basically destroying the car, to get their things out. It looked like Vance had just bought NCIS another car. That or there'd be one heck of a rental bill at the end of winter.

That afternoon, just as the sun was starting to sink, there was another knock. This time it was Abby who rushed to the door. The grumpy LEO had been gone for a couple of hours, and they all knew who this would be.

"McGEE! ZIVA!" Abby squealed. Tony came rushing from the room where he'd been putting new sheets on the bed. His smile was as brilliant as Ducky's. They'd had fun, but they were ready to go home. Gibbs poured another cup of coffee, a smile on his face. He'd say hi in a minute, once they had their coats off and were actually through the door.

Sam heard the car pull in and poked her head out of the barn where she was currently feeding the babies lunch. She'd seen the two newcomers head to the door, and was glad for her friends. She knew what it was like to be away from her home, and while she'd enjoyed their company, was pleased that they could go home. Even though her house would be quiet again.

In the house, the team discussed the options of heading out after dinner, before dinner, or waiting for the morning. After much arguing and debating, they decided on waiting for the morning, provided Sam was willing to let two more stay for the evening. Driving four hours in the dark with bad roads wasn't something any of the stranded team really wanted to repeat.

When Sam got up to the house, she was greeted with the smell of fresh cookies.

"Abby, I'm gonna miss you." Sam grinned and grabbed a still-hot cookie as soon as her hands were washed. "Mm. Coconut and oatmeal? Never would have thought of that. They're good."

"Thanks. " Abby beamed back. "Can you make fudge tonight? I want to take some back with me, and Tony and Ducky ate the rest." Ducky began to argue, but stopped when he realized there was a bit still on his shirt from where he and Tony had playfully argued over who got the last piece.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Sam groused at the goth. "But you're helping. Those two are gonna need fudge fixes from time to time."

"No, I'll leave the sugar behind." Ducky smiled sheepishly, and Gibbs snorted. His friend usually didn't care for desserts, but apparently he'd found one that was good.

"Hi." Sam turned to Tim and Ziva. "You here for this circus?"

"Yes, Ma'am." Tim answered, holding out his hand. "I'm Tim, um, McGee, and this is Ziva."

"Nice to meet both of you."

"Thank you." Ziva shook hands with Sam, taking in the slightly shorter woman's disheveled appearance.

"I'm a mess, I know." Sam shrugged. "Happens." And with that, she was off planning and rearranging sleeping places for everyone. Somehow, Abby, and Ziva ended up in one room on the bed while Tony and Tim would sleep in the living room on a thin mattress produced from who- knew- where. Gibbs and Ducky would share the same room as they had been doing. Ziva asked Abby quietly where Sam would sleep. The bubbly goth just shrugged.

"I don't think she sleeps."

Dinner was a noisy affair, with everyone getting caught up, Ziva teasing Tony about life without TV, Abby going crazy with Tim's palm-pilot. It didn't get internet, but she could play solitaire like she was used to doing. With a point and click instead of a shuffle and move. It was so much easier.

Ducky relayed their adventure with aplomb, earning more than one glare from Gibbs, especially when he told the story of the silver-haired agent's mishap. Tony talked about being glad to be going home, and started listing off movies he wanted to watch. Sam just soaked in the noise.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Despite catching the tooth fairy (he was visiting my nephew, not me) I still didn't get my wish of owning NCIS. (sigh)

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar for being my amazing and wonderful beta! I LOVE YOU! !

Note: She is not to blame for my strange notes. I do those all on my own. heeheehee

The sun had been down for some time when the team was exhausted and ready for bed. Sam was nearing her limits with the noise. She'd thought Tony and Abby were excitable on their own, but she was introduced to an all new level of sibling messiness with the addition of Tim and Ziva.

The four didn't have an exact sibling rivalry, but some form of strange bond joined them. She was sure Gibbs would have come unglued if anyone ever said it, but she snickered to herself as she thought about Gibbs being their dad. Ducky was somewhere off to the side as either favorite uncle or grandpa. Just as the man's stories covered a multitude of scenarios, his place in this group did the same.

She watched in amusement as everyone said their goodnights. Her earlier assessment of a family held true. It was obvious that they all looked to Gibbs as some stable force in their lives. Tony and Abby had bid he and Ducky goodnight every night they were here, but tonight it was more of a show.

Between the four, it was as if all of them wanted a hug goodnight from "dad", but were afraid to ask. So they spoke. Loudly. And they teased and got on one another's nerves. Gibbs would eventually end it with a head-slap or glare that would be softened by Ducky trying to placate and let the "children" play.

Finally they were separated into rooms. Abby and Ziva were talking in their room, giggling as they chatted about the baby goats and how they really truly were in the living room during the blizzard. Tim and Tony were whispering in the living room, obviously trying to not get another round of head-slaps from Gibbs. The sudden "Elf Lord" that erupted from Tony amid laughter brought that hope to a sudden and crashing end.

Ducky and Gibbs were finally in their room and the last of the lights were out. Sam pulled out the sleeping bag she usually used in the milk room during kidding and laid it out on the floor. Realizing she didn't keep a pillow back for herself, she grabbed two towels and a case from the closet and lay down. A pair of dry boots provided a perfect base that let her thin "pillow" be high enough. Within minutes, she was asleep.

When the sun rose, she was up and moving, stretching out the sore muscles from sleeping on the floor. The fire was nearly out, and she quietly cleaned the grate before building a new fire. Once it was going, she started breakfast. Pancakes, but for those, she'd need to milk and visit the chicken coop.

She went outside, smiling at the noise created by six snoring guests. Sadness lurked on the edges of her mind, as she knew they'd leave soon after breakfast. But there'd be time for tears later. Now was time for having fun with her friends. But first, work.

Today was perhaps the first time since the death of her husband that she regretted her choice to hang on to the farm. She was tired and achy. And she'd love to be able to go somewhere fun. Maybe even visit her new friends in DC. But that would require having someone watch the farm for her. Which would require paying someone to do that. Which would require setting aside enough money for a trip.

Her melancholy eased as she entered the barn. The smell of hay and the quiet lowing of the animals eased an ache in her chest. The first does to be milked were standing and stretching, knowing their services would soon be required.

Sam went into the milk room and got the filter inserted into the funnel pan for after she'd milked. The feed pans on the stanchions were all filled, and beet pulp was soaking in hot water for after they'd been milked. She turned the radio on, glad that this morning wasn't talk radio. Some new piece she'd never heard came from the speakers. It had the "flavor" of Bach, but it wasn't.

This was perhaps her favorite time of the day. She wasn't really working yet. She was just getting things ready to work. There was no need to rush. Now was calm. However, once she started, it was like running a race. This was the calm before the storm. The silence before the start of the shot to start the race. The moment of peace before the waves crashed on the shore bringing high tide back in. Now was her time.

When she was all set up, she got the first few goats into the milk room and started milking. The slow splash of the first few squeezes hit the strip cup, and then Sam was ready. She sat down, stretched her fingers and leaned against Maria. The goat had been named after Maria von Trapp of historical fame. One of Sam's 4-H helpers had begged to name her, and Sam had agreed. And thus Maria von Trapp came to live in the barn. The real Maria would either get a chuckle or turn in her grave. Sam thought it may be the latter. Sort of like people who name their dogs after famous people. Sam often wondered how famous actors would feel if they knew they spent their nights in the dog house…

She was on her fourth set of goats when the door opened and Jethro stepped in, two travel mugs of coffee in hand. He smiled and held one out toward her. Sam reached out and took it from him, downing nearly half of it in a move that could rival Gibbs' caffeine habits. When she stopped, she popped the top off and held her cup under Dancer's udder. With quick sure strokes, she filled the cup to the rim and slurped off the warm foam. Closing her eyes and sighing, she savored the taste. Seconds later, she was refilling her cup, taking care to take off the foam before replacing the lid.

"Thanks, Gibbs." He took the cup from her when she held it out to him. "Put it on the counter, will you?" He moved silently, listening to the quick gush of milk as she emptied Dancer's udder.

"How are ya this morning?" It was the first he'd spoken all morning.

"Good. You?"

"Fine." Silence was broken only by the quick squirts of milk. "You ready to get on the road? I'll bet you're excited to go home."

"Yeah, I am, actually." Gibbs smirked. "Miss the noise, even though I'll be complaining about it in a week." Sam laughed.

"Is the noise really that bad?"

"Sometimes. I don't really notice it much. Here, though, I notice the silence."

"Silence?" Sam chuckled. "You're bunch is never silent. You are on occasion, but you're a noisy lot."

"We are, but the traffic is what I'm used to hearing."

"I've never been somewhere as big as DC. Is it really that noisy?"

"It gets bad at times." They were quiet again for a few minutes. "Well, I'm gonna go back to the house."

"Cold?" He nodded. "Limit the coffee and take a hot shower."

"Yes, Ma'am." Sam laughed and tossed a dirty towel at him.

"Hey! I'm a guest! What about hospitality?"

"I'll show you hospitality!" Gibbs laughed and scooted out the door. He'd seen her lift her foot with a pretend threat. But he wasn't sure of how much of a pretend threat it was with her.

He was barely down the stairs as the girls rushed past him and headed to the pan of beet pulp. He watched them do battle over the pan, head-butting and side nudging one another to get the "best" spot. However, the cold was giving him fits, and he needed to get back to the house.

Once he was there, he found everyone was up and fighting over the bathroom. He quickly called first dibs. When Tim started to argue, Jethro held up his hands, which were slightly blue from the cold. Minutes later, he was in the bathroom showering. Sam had told them the night before that they could keep the clothes they'd borrowed and send them back later. He was thankful for the clean clothes.

By the time he was out, Sam had been up to the house with a couple dozen eggs and two gallons of milk. Abby and Tony were showing off how well they could cook on a wood-burning cook-stove by whipping up a huge batch of pancakes and eggs. Sam was back down in the barn. Chores were almost done, and she wanted to be able to have breakfast with the crew and not miss them taking off.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Don't own it…

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar for being my beta! LOVE YOU! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: No fair that when I'm writing a story on a blizzard, we get one. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr….. it's cold. And wet. And I don't like snow. Um. Chinook? Where be you? I miss you. lol

#######

Breakfast was a noisy affair. Seven people sat around the living room, plates on laps and any available surface and cups of coffee sitting by feet on the floor. Syrup flowed, coffee kept coming, and it wasn't until the "boys" decided it was time to have a burping contest that Gibbs delivered his first head-slap of the day, ironically enough to Abby, who beat both Tim and Tony in the volume category.

"Hey!" She turned and glared at her silver-haired fox.

"Be glad you're sitting, Abby, or I'd have not hit your head." Sam's eyes flew wide as she listened to the conversation. She tried to keep her face straight, but knew she was going to fail. When Abby's tongue shot out in defiance, their host lost it.

Sam let loose and laughed loud and long, her plate ending up on the floor beside her. Tony wasn't far behind, and soon the entire team had joined in. Laughter continued on for several minutes, flowing from one topic to another, each one getting more bizarre and silly than the next.

Ducky finally called a halt to the merriment when McGee started to choke on his coffee after a rather ribald comment from Tony. Everyone had red faces, cheeks that hurt, and more than one drink had been sloshed.

With final whispered comments and a few not-so-gentle pokes and shoves, all of the dishes ended up in the kitchen, Ziva and Abby occupying themselves with washing dishes. Sam pulled out packages of lunchmeat and loaves of bread that she'd been setting back for two days. Sandwiches started appearing in large numbers on every free space available.

"Why so many?"

"You're not gonna actually get on the road until almost lunch, so a meal on the road, then you'll need dinner, and depending on traffic, road conditions, and the states of your wallets, you may need dinner. There's six of you. That means at least 12 sandwiches. And I've seen Tony eat." Sam grinned when the young man in question shouted out in his own defense. "So I'm making a few extra."

The ladies at the sink shared a look, waiting until Tony was safely in the next room before they broke out with the laughter they'd tried so hard to hold in. Ducky began a quick story regarding the eating habits of a man he'd heard of who wanted only peanut butter sandwiches. Tim joined in the fun while Tony covered his ears, pretending to be completely tormented by the conversation.

"Hey, get into the cupboard and get a couple jars of peaches. Tony, you know that big pot?" She hollered to him a second time. "Get that big pot. You know how to pop the popcorn."

Tony's eyes lit up. If there was one thing he'd learned to make, it was the kitchen version of kettle corn that she'd taught him to make. He celebrated for a moment before rushing off to do his task.

Minutes later, Gibbs was outside making sure the rented Explorer was roadworthy. He topped off the oil from the reserves Sam had offered, made sure the windshield washer fluid was full, gassed it up from the pump she kept for the farm's vehicles, and when he was satisfied, went back inside.

Gibbs started to speak, only to decide against it. He stood in the door and just watched. Tony had a paper sack filled with popcorn, and was still popping more. Ziva had a sack with paper towels, napkins, plastic ware, and was setting in clear plastic containers of fruit. Abby was getting baggies of the final batch of fudge ready to go, adding them to the sack Ziva was quickly filling.

Sam had nearly 20 sandwiches finished, all of them in plastic baggies, and as Gibbs watched, Ducky stacked them carefully into the cooler Sam had told them to take. After all, she had three. She'd get it back sometime. Tim was gathering everything they'd brought into the house, double checking the short list before asking his boss to move aside. Gibbs sidestepped, allowing the younger man to get out.

Ten short minutes later, the lunches were done and packed in the car. A gallon size thermos of coffee was in the front passenger floorboard, gallon jugs of water and a stack of red solo cups were loaded. Everyone started to hit the restroom, looking for anything to do to prolong their departure.

Abby and Sam bid one another goodbye, the Goth handing Sam a list of names, addresses, and phone numbers in case she got a phone in. Sam grinned and jotted down her own address for her friend. Ziva bid their host a quick farewell along with McGee, who thanked her for the meals.

Tony teased Sam, betting her twenty bucks that she'd not carry the TV back to the barn.

"You think not, huh?"

"Nope." He gave her the famous DiNozzo grin. "You'll miss the noise." She rolled her eyes as she turned to Ducky.

"Well, my dear." He looked concerned for a moment, but then relaxed his face into a smile. "I know you have lived here for years, and many of them on your own. But I will worry about you when I hear of snow on the High Plains."

"Nah." She smiled back. "You just had a hard time cuz you're not used to it."

"Let an old man worry."

"If you insist." She kissed him lightly on his cheek. "Be safe."

"And you, my dear." He stepped to the side, making room for Gibbs. Sam suddenly looked uncomfortable. She stuck her hands in her pockets, Gibbs mimicking her.

"Got everything?"

"Yeah, think so." It was as if the other five people had ceased to exist. Ducky nodded to the door, but Sam rushed passed him. She headed to the barn, obviously seeking the comfort of her space. McGee saw the single tear roll down her cheek as she hurried past.

Gibbs waited a moment, as if deciding what to do, swore, and followed. He found her behind the haystack, practically snuggled against its scratchy surface.

"You ok?" His voice was quiet and barely carried above the quiet lowing of the goats.

"No." Her honesty surprised him, but he wasn't sure why. "But I will be."

"Glad to be getting rid of us?"

"Glad you're able to go home and be safe. Does that work?" He nodded, not speaking. After a moment, she turned and held out her hand. He cocked his head, looking her up and down before taking it. With a gentle tug, he pulled her into his chest.

"Keep in touch, ok?" Her nod was her only response. After a few minutes of simply standing together, a horn blew. "Guess the gang's getting impatient."

"Guess so." Sam stepped back, locking eyes with Jethro for a moment. "Be safe."

"You too." He let loose of the hands he still held and walked out into the sun, leaving his friend where she stood. He slid the door closed once again behind him, listening to her shaking breaths, wishing he could ease her pain. He could only imagine how hard it would be if someone reminded him that strongly of Shannon. Someone who was walking away. His own heart ached, knowing there was nothing he could do.

As she heard the Explorer pull from the drive, tears rolled down her face. Loneliness wasn't something she normally allowed herself to feel, but right now, the emotion overwhelmed her. Lady Juliette, who should have been named Houdini, escaped from her pen and lay down next to her Mama. The aged goat was soon wrapped in Sam's arms as the woman wept. Wept for her husband, wept for loneliness, and wept just because it felt good to do so.

On his part, Gibbs drove carefully, obviously lost in thought. Ducky finally requested he either pull over and let someone else drive or concentrate.

"I am concentrating."

"On two things, my boy." Gibbs sighed and pulled over, letting Tony take the wheel. No one said a word. But the curiosity felt by everyone was palpable.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to my fabulous beta, Headbanger Rockstar! LOVE YOU! SO MUCH! Ptbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: Tissue warning ahead…

#######

Tony drove carefully, very aware of his best friend who was completely oblivious to the conversations in the car. Gibbs was more quiet than usual, his expression a mix of annoyance and concern. It took Abby practically cuddling into his side to make the older man snap out of it.

"What's wrong, Bossman?"

"Who said anything was wrong?" Abby scoffed and hit his shoulder.

"Um, none of us are blind, Gibbs. What's the problem?"

"No phone."

"What?"

"No phone." He said the words slowly. "Never be unreachable."

"Oh, Sam." He nodded and Abby let the conversation die for a bit. "We could get her one."

"She can't afford it. No phone lines close to her."

"Boss?" Tony spoke up. "I offered to pay her, you know, food and all, and she said no. Got kinda pissed about me offering. Said it was something people should do for one another. "

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. So, um, what if we pay her by getting her a phone line. She wouldn't be unreachable."

"McGee?" Gibbs drew the younger man's name out slowly. "Something you can figure out?"

"Sure thing, Boss." Ducky and Tony exchanged a look in the front seat. "We can have it ordered in a few hours once we're back to DC." Gibbs physically relaxed, and the trip continued on, conversation eventually flowing normally.

Miles away, Sam was getting her house back in order. Sheets were washed, floors were mopped, the bathroom got a scrubbing, and the pantry was refilled from the stores in the garage. The silence had proven to be too much, and contrary to the quiet she had enjoyed several days before, the TV was on simply for the noise.

She was glad her hands could be kept busy. If she was busy, then her mind was occupied. Once her tiny set of rooms were cleaned and set back to order, she closed up the spare room once again, stashing everything she'd brought in or out for her guests out of sight. It could all wait for the Spring to go back into the garage storage.

Sam looked at the clock and sighed as she realized it was only three. Shrugging, she got dressed and headed to the barn. Oh well. She'd at least get hay thrown down. She didn't need to, as she'd tossed down enough for several days just yesterday, but it was something to do. A way to exhaust herself.

Bale after bale hit the aisle with a pleasant thud, and when she had a stack, she climbed back down and started to stack them. When she had them stacked, she looked around for other ways to keep her busy. Jag. He could stand to be brushed. He'd gone out in his run and rolled around, making his heavy winter coat stick up and dry in ways that had to be uncomfortable.

She pulled her grooming bucket out of the store room and got his halter and rope. He nickered, happily sticking his head over the door to his stall. His halter slipped over his huge head and he blew out his breath as he felt it being fastened.

"What, you don't want to get clean?" The huge horse lifted his head, acting like he was nodding. Sam laughed. "You are such a boy. I should call you Mr. Filthy."

Jag stood still when she snapped the rope to his halter. As soon as the gate was open, he pushed past, knowing his misbehavior would cost him a cookie. But the loss of a cookie and a reprimand was a small price to pay for getting brushed. Sam shook her head, almost understanding what was going through her "friends" head.

He moved quickly to the spot she always tied him in and planted his feet. After a moment, he looked back at his mistress, his ears perked, as if to ask what was taking so long. He was met with a gentle cuff to the neck and a scratch between his ears.

As the stiff curry met his hide, he practically leaned into her gentle touch. She brushed a little harder, and chuckled as he sighed in contentment. She went over his body with long smooth strokes, working mud and grime from his coat. She followed the curry with a stiff brush that she used short, fast strokes with to rid him of anything else left. The last brush was soft, and Sam had worked out her frustrations and feelings of emptiness and loneliness by the time she had picked it up.

Jag was so relaxed he didn't bother to argue when she lifted his foot to dig out his hoof. He hated having his hooves picked. But he didn't want to waste this feeling of lassitude by putting up his usual struggle. He felt a prick to his frog and grumbled, but only for a moment. The small rock that had gotten into his hoof from his run was out. His ears twitched, taking in the calm around him. Calm was good. Calm was nice. Calm was safe. Calm was his Sam.

By the time Sam was returning to her house, the team was heading into the airport. She'd pegged it right. With road conditions, they'd driven for six hours. Dinner had indeed been eaten as they drove, and the entire team was grateful for Sam's forethoughts.

"I feel bad for not calling her and letting her know we made it." Abby stood by Tony as they waited in line for security. None of them had any sensitive materials beyond the weapons they had permits for, so with jokes and shows of paper, they found themselves on the final leg of their journey.

As they settled into their seats, Gibbs called NCIS and let Director Vance know they were safe and on their way. He'd listened to the messages left earlier, but didn't feel the need to return the calls. Gibbs wasn't in the mood to deal with him then. Now, he ran a 50/50 shot of just leaving a message.

With an uneasy truce, the men exchanged information on flights, what was going on in the building, and the temporary loss of the information in the rented sedan.

Sam sat down to dinner, eating the last sandwich she'd made for herself earlier. She looked out the window, wondering if the team had made it. In her world, no news was good news, and she often had wondered about people before. But never so many at one time.

With a sigh, she put her plate in the sink, got her outside clothes on with all of her layers, and headed back out to the barn. She didn't feel like doing the chores. Tears stood in her eyes as she got ready for milking and feeding and watering. Not since Ellis had passed had she felt this despondent.

She went through the hollow actions of chores. Tonight she lacked the energy to enjoy her animals. Even with the radio turned on and playing classic country tunes, it was quiet and lonely. The goats sensed her mood, and with the innate kindness that makes up a goat, they behaved well. Sam was on the receiving end of several goat kisses. They moved through chores easily with her, only a couple of the younger ones drawing small smiles from their Mama for little antics.

As the plane landed, Sam was returning to her house. The team collected their cars from the parking lot at Dulles International Airport and headed to their residences as Sam showered and readied for bed. Abby was grocery shopping, Tim was downloading information to make the purchase order for Sam's phone line, Tony had a pizzeria on the phone getting dinner, Ducky was checking on his mother at the nursing home, Ziva was at the gym, and Gibbs was in his basement by the time Sam slid into her covers.

Her head hit her pillow, and tears sprang from her eyes. She'd not even thought of it, but Gibbs wore Old Spice. The pillow her head was resting on smelled of it. Longing and memories washed over her unbidden as she sobbed herself to sleep.

She dreamed of Ellis that night. Sam stood in the same field she'd run to when he passed. He'd died just before sunrise on the first day of Summer. She'd lain with him all night, listening to his breathing become more and more labored. Sweat had rested on his lip and brow, his color had gone from his normal tone to slightly bluish.

He'd been peaceful, despite his troubles. He'd lived in peace, and it looked like he'd die the same way. Sure enough, he'd opened his eyes and looked at her with his dark brown orbs, a far-away look in them. He closed them, his hand tightening on hers. The sigh he let lose was the last he breathed. Several moments passed before she reacted.

When she moved, it was simply to lay down beside him and hold him close, hoping she'd feel one last heartbeat. It was not to be. When she let herself accept that he was gone, anger had filled her. Anger at the unfairness of it all. He'd come home only to die. He'd escaped danger on the frontlines for his country only to have a hidden terror rip through him.

And he'd been powerless to fight it. She rose from their bed and ran out into the breaking dawn, a savage scream on her lips. She had run to the field she now found herself dreaming she was in. She turned and saw her late husband standing to her left.

Sam turned to walk towards him, but he shook his head, pointing with his chin and lips to her right. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw emptiness. A field with waving wheat and grasses. A fence in the distance. She turned to Ellis again, only he was gone. Confusion swept over her, and she woke, her jaw tense and aching. Pushing the pillows onto the floor, she fell back to sleep. This time, thankfully it was dreamless.

Several states away, Gibbs tossed his sander aside, frustration taking over instead of the peace he was seeking. His gut was churning. Something was drastically wrong. What, he had no idea. But something was wrong. When he finally fell asleep under his boat, it was with the help of bourbon.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to my fabulous beta, Headbanger Rockstar! LOVE YOU! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: Very irreverent joking ahead... Don't flame, just accept that we as humans' sometimes find ways to deal with things...

###########

The sun rose, and Sam lay in bed, refusing to move. She knew she should get up. She had to. The goats were waiting. It had been a long time since she admitted that the goats were her reason. They were the thing that kept her going in those dark days after Ellis' death.

And it was that feeling of being grateful for having something to do that finally got her moving. Laziness did nothing for a person's peace or well-being. She pulled her abalone shell from the corner cupboard where she'd kept it since Ellis died. He had been far more traditional. His family were the ones she looked to for spiritual answers. Her family had gone Anglo in many ways. The Anglo ways weren't bad, they were just different. Busy. They didn't make much sense.

At times like this, she was glad that her husband had been a follower of their people's ancient ways. She drew in a deep breath and put some sage into the multicolored shell she held in her hand. After a moment to clear her mind, she lit the herb and smelled the grounding and healing odor moments later.

She pulled smoke over her head, cleaning her mind before washing her heart and arms in a similar manner. Six times, and she began to calm. Her mind steadied, her heart calmed, and peace returned to her. She bowed to the floor, beginning her morning prayers with thanks to the ground she stood on. Facing the other sacred directions, she spoke softly, her voice lilting with the tongue of her ancestors.

Finally, her hands raised high, she greeted the Creator. She spoke of her longing for peace, for safety, and for the release of her heart. She spoke of her friends and her desire to know if they were safe. She spoke of her anxious wonderings as to their wellbeing.

#######

Gibbs stood with his coffee mug in hand. He'd slept for only a few hours, and he already regretted that decision. He'd received a call from Dispatch that they had a case. 6:43, and they had a case. Looking out the window as he took one more swallow of his hot brew, he swore. Snow. He could feel his hands and feet aching already.

By nine in the morning, he was beyond frustrated. He thought of calling Sam to find out how he could warm himself up, and nearly head-slapped himself. Tim hadn't even been able to call and place the order to get the line to the farm. He looked at his watch again. 9:05. Which meant it was 7:05 her time. Which meant she'd been up and working for at least two hours.

He hoped she wasn't as off her game as he was. They'd gone to the crime scene, gotten everything wrapped up there, headed back to NCIS where he was immediately pulled into meetings with Vance regarding the trade show they'd been to, and the last time his phone had rang, it was SecNav.

Gibbs groaned, announced his need for coffee and headed to the elevator. He really should have gone to bed earlier.

An hour and a dose of Motrin later, Gibbs reentered the bullpen.

"DiNozzo!"

"Yes, Boss!" Tony looked at his "notes" and pretended to read fact's he had in his head.

"McGee!" Tim repeated the performance, going over the victim's financials and e-mail.

"Dah-Veed!" He looked around, his brow furrowed. He glared at Tony.

"Little girl's room, Boss. However, here's her report."

"What's it say?" Tony rattled off a short version with all of the pertinent information, and they were back to work with Gibbs in the know. They worked until lunch, when Ziva took off to collect their orders from the sub shop at the corner.

Tim finished placing the order for the phone line to the farm, paid for it with the agreed upon funds that they'd all chipped in with earlier, and sent the confirmation of the order to the entire team. Split 6 ways, the bill wasn't bad, and was less than a quarter of what they'd have spent on a hotel. All of them considered it a worthwhile investment.

#######

Sam was finally done with morning chores. She shook her head at herself; it had only taken her until noon to do her work. The goats had been patient, but she still felt bad. She sat at her table eating a bowl of cereal. It was all she had the energy for. She sighed as she poured out the last of the box.

"Wonderful." She groused. "Last bowl of the last box." Shooting it a glare, she pulled out the plastic sack inside and put the cardboard into the stove. She had a thought run through her head, and she quickly stomped it out. A couple of minutes later, it returned, this time bringing humor with it. "Cereal and men." She huffed comically to the silence she sat in. "Neither one last."

The day was so far off schedule that Sam stopped trying. The goats were fed, the milk was dealt with, the chickens had been cared for, and that was as much as she was going to try to do today. With the release of tension from her mind as she put the long list of work from her head, Sam sat back in her rocking recliner, a movie playing softly as she stared unseeing at the television.

She woke two hours later to the fuzz that was at the end of every movie on VHS. She looked around confused for a moment. Her living room, yes. Her chair, yes. But to sleep in the afternoon with a TV on wasn't something she was used to. Groggily she stood and went to the coffee pot.

On the way, she stopped and tossed in a couple chunks of wood and decided she was hungry. Eggs. Those were quick, easy, and could be made in a number of ways. This afternoon would be feta and spinach with salsa. A bizarre mix, but it would be tasty.

She finished eating and stretched. Maybe a change of scenery was what she needed. She got her wallet and keys, banked the stove, and headed out. She had no idea of where she'd go, but she'd drive. See what the damage was. Make sure the northern fences were intact as she drove. That was one of the benefits of being so far out. The traffic was light, mostly semi's, and the berm was wide enough she could pull over if she wanted to go slower.

She drove for nearly an hour, slowly making her way toward town. About ten minutes out, she looked up at the workers high on the power poles. The men were attaching lines, hung high in the air with their safety straps and cleated boots.

She pulled into the only restaurant in town and went inside. Farmers greeted one another, telling stories about the storm, and discussing the excitement of having lost travelers. They talked about who found them and what really happened. Silence fell as the stocky, short goat farmer walked in.

Sam grimaced and sat at the counter. Phyllis came over and set a cup down before her.

"Just coffee?"

"For now." Sam took a sip with Phyllis standing over her. Sam tried to ignore the invasive woman, but it wasn't to be done. She finally looked up at the condescending waitress. "What?"

"I heard you had six men at your house."

"Heard wrong." Sam sighed. "There were three and one of their coworkers, who was a woman."

"Not what I heard."

"Really? Who'd you'd hear anything from?" Sam met the woman's eyes, daring her to provide a name. She was tired of this game. They played it every time she came to town.

"Everybody knows you've not got a man out there on your farm."

"So?" Sam shrugged. "You've been divorced twice. Have three kids, and rumor has it your last marriage ended because that little girl of yours was born with the wrong hair." Sam never lifted her voice above the volume she'd started at, fully aware that the men around her had quieted so they could hear her response.

"How dare you!" Phyllis turned red and shouted before she caught herself.

"I don't know. How dare you?" Sam stood and faced her neighbors. Her friend Sally nodded from where she sat with her husband in the corner. Sam smirked back. "Alright. Just to shut you all up."

Sam shouting was a new experience. Silence fell. "Yes, folks got lost. They stayed at my place. The weather broke, they're home, and that's it. Nothing else to tell. And if ya don't got anything better to talk about, don't bother coming out for cheese or soap. I can sell it across state lines."

She walked out the door, her shoulders squared and head held high. The door was barely closed when she heard what could be a compliment or an insult. She decided to take it as a compliment.

"Independent bitch." Sam remembered why she rarely came to town. She stopped in at the grocery store, where the 10 aisles were nearly empty. She stocked up on coffee, sugar, flour, and shortening, decided to replenish her stores of chocolate for fudge, and bought several boxes of cereal. After a moment of thought, she picked up a bag of popcorn. Tony had put quite a dent in hers.

The clerk was fairly vibrating with curiosity as Sam came to the counter. Sam rolled her eyes and waited. The foolish woman could ring up her stuff or not. She'd made an idiot out of herself once that day. She wasn't going to do it again.

Thankfully Deputy Robert was shopping on his way home. He stepped to the counter, not sure if he should intervene or not. He'd already been to the coffee shop and heard the wild rumors going on in there. Until then, he'd thought the stories of small town gossip were myths.

"Problem?"

"No." Sam looked him in the eye. "She's just waiting for information she's not gonna get." Robert shot a glance to Anna, who started to ring up the groceries, her face slightly pink.

"Information?"

"Yeah." Sam smirked. "You know, strangers lost in a snow storm."

"Oh." Robert smiled, not realizing he'd make things worse. Sam couldn't blame him, as he was new. "The Feds." Sam rolled her eyes. It was all gonna be over now. She could hear the rumors already. Muttering to herself, she loaded her few purchases into her car and started her drive home.

"Tonight at six," Sam mimicked a news broadcaster, "Federal officers held hostage by fierce storm and insane local farmer." She scoffed. "Kept hungry and cold, one nearly dies from lack of medical care. Up next, their rescue by aliens." By the time she was finished ranting, she had herself laughing.

Anything could be funny if it was put into the right context. The most serious thing of today was the stuff of humor tomorrow. She kept herself amused with making up phony headlines all the way home, using silly voices and inflections to make the humor more pronounced.

Just as she expected, her amusing rants weren't far off from what was being said in town. One of the utility workers came in and mentioned that the work order for the new phone lines had been paid for by an out of towner. One of the farmers asked where from, and the young man, full of himself and his position in a largely unemployed area, looked down and read the originating address off of the work order. Several gray heads nodded.

It was true. That woman and her goats were a menace. She'd managed to kill her husband, she struggled to make it out there, and yet she'd not married anyone else. Only people with things to hide chose to live alone. Drugs. It had to be drugs. And the Feds didn't get lost in the storm. They were investigating her. She'd be arrested any day. The phone line was for the government. That's why its payment had come out of DC.

Within days, Sam was the most evil person known in town, and her neighbors were terrified of losing their farms. Sam stayed on her farm, talking with others only when her friend Sally stopped in.

The two women visited for hours, Sally talking and pacing herself with Sam as they worked around the farm. They eventually ended up inside where they sat drinking coffee and feeding the babies that Sally was able to help deliver.

"So, you going to be back in town soon?" Sally finally broached the subject.

"No." Sam smirked. "It's a longer drive, but I'm gonna go across state lines."

"Wait." Sally's eyes flew huge. She knew she was going to be in trouble, but she couldn't resist. "You can't cross state lines, can you? Aren't you under investigation for something? Like, a drug ring?" Sam howled with laughter.

"Oh, yeah." She wiped a hand across her eyes. "The drugs, and the whore house I'm running." Sally grinned. "You know, it's dangerous to your reputation to be here. You may be having an illicit affair with me."

"Yes!" Sally cheered. "That's it! You're a lesbian who runs a whore house and you service both my husband and I." Sam spit the sip of coffee she'd just taken across the table, her eyes almost completely closed in mirth.

"Don't forget that I did some voodoo to make Ellis sick." Sally nodded. "I never took him for chemo, you know."

"I know." Sally forced down her laughter for a moment, but didn't fool her friend for a moment. "That's when you got involved in the drug ring. The stuff to keep him comfortable."

"And the Hospice nurse wasn't really a Hospice nurse. She was my accomplice." Sally hooted. "That I somehow managed to get to go to eight other homes every week and got her paid to do it."

"And your internet scams, and your phony insurance claims." Both women were nearly in tears from laughter when there was a knock at the door.

"What the hell?"


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Still don't own it despite my constant wishes on stars..

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar for being my amazing beta! Love you! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: Still being irreverent. Lol Enjoy the AU and OOC!

######

Before Sam could get to the door, the person knocked again.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" Sally was on her friends heels, anxious to make sure it wasn't one of the morons from town trying to make trouble.

Out on the stoop, stood a tall man in overalls and a tool belt under a heavy parka. Sam yanked her door open and stepped back, motioning the man to come inside.

"What can I do for ya?"  
>"I'm here to install your phone, Ma'am."<p>

"My phone?" Sam looked totally confused. "I didn't order a phone."

"Whether you did or not, it's paid for and I'm here to install it." Sam looked to Sally, who shrugged.

"Paid for? Not gonna get a bill I can't afford?"

"Nope. There'll be a service charge every month, but it's not much."

"Who paid for it?"

"Lady, I don't know." He looked as frustrated as he sounded. "Where do you want this thing? I got to get the wires in the wall, get the electric hooked up to it, and according to the instructions I've got here, I gotta get one in the barn, too."

"Let me ask you this, Bub. If this was your house, would you want someone walking in and putting crap in your house when you had no idea who it's coming from or why?"

"Look. Here's the order. That's all I got. All I know is that it's paid for. Somebody from out of town, I heard dispatch say DC or somewhere like that. Town with initials. DC, or LA, or NYC, something like that." He handed over the clipboard for Sam to look. She nodded and told him to put it in the living room. The built in book shelves would probably be the best place for a phone. The shelf already had somewhere handy to set it without rearranging anything.

"So this explains why the new lines are being strung." Sally added her two cents as the man started drilling and wiring to add the houseline.

"Yep." He shouted from the living room, and the women smirked at one another. Typical man. He had to answer every question, even if it wasn't aimed at him. "Made quite a stir in town. I don't usually work out here, but I guess there's some rumor that you've got the farm for sale, or something like that, and nobody wanted to come out, but there's a rush on the order." He chuckled. "I'll take overtime and travel pay any way I can get it."

"Oh, new in town, huh?"

"Just for the week." There was a pause. "Name's Bill."

"Well, Bill, I'm Sam, this is my friend Sally, and just be careful of what you say in town." Sally snorted. Bill popped his head in the kitchen, a grin on his face.

"What? You aren't harboring criminals or hiding some UFO?" His eyes teased. "I heard from that snippy witch in the restaurant this morning that you're a drug dealer." Sam rolled her eyes.

"Widow. Farmer. Goats in cattle country." The man's face split into a wide grin.

"Single mom, Dad died in Vietnam, she kept the hotel running for years."

"Ah, so you know all about it." Sam poured him a cup of coffee.

"Yep. Love those rumors. I tell ya, if half of them were true, my Mama would have been the richest Madam in the world." The three chatted comfortably as he installed lines and gave his own interpretations of the locals. After one of them, Sally snorted, barely able to contain her laughter.

"Hey, now, that one's mine."

"Sorry, Ma'am." Sally just laughed, shaking her head.

"Embarrassing when you can peg your man coming from a newbie, huh?" Bill grinned and went back to work. He'd figured the rumors were lies, and he was glad that they were indeed. He knew better than to say anything in town, as he'd just stoke fires, but he hoped someone would listen and learn. He grinned, thinking of the term his wife had come up with for gossips. Prairie Punks.

Sally stayed until it was time for evening chores, and regretfully packed up and headed out.

"Come on over tomorrow or the day after, Sam. Get out of here for a bit."

"Nah." Sam shook her head. "Can't take off just yet."

"He'll be in the barn tomorrow. Nice guy, by the way."

"He is nice." The women shared a smile. "I don't want to take off just yet. Do I need to remind you of what happened the last time I left in the middle of a rumor war?" Sally rolled her eyes.

"We helped you round everybody up then, we can do it again."

"We shouldn't have to, Sally." Sam stretched and rubbed her neck. "And I can't afford to lose any of the animals."

"You only lost four."

"Yeah. Four that weren't lost, Sally." Sam stared out her window. "They were right out there. Single shots to their heads." She turned to her friend. "I love it here, and I promised Ellis I'd not give up, but I tell ya, that if that happens again, I'm done."

"Don't let the morons get to you, Sam." Sam nodded slowly.

"Sorry. Good mood gone." Both women shrugged.

"Don't apologize. You want one of our guys to come out here for the night?" Sam shook her head.

"No. It'll just make things worse at this point." Sally hugged her friend.

"Sorry, Sam. Kinda surprised they started in on Bill his first day."

"Me, too. Happening all over again." A squeeze to Sam's shoulder, and Sally was out the door.

########

Gibbs grumbled as he sat across from SecNav. Vance wasn't as bad as the man was portraying him. Sure, he could be annoying and go on power trips of unprecedented size, unless of course, you counted Jenny's, but he wasn't as terrible as the paperwork showed him to be.

"I'm tired of getting complaints from within, Gibbs."

"Oh, and with me at the helm, you'll not get them?" SecNav smirked.

"I'll get some, but from other organizations." It was Jethro's turn to grin. "Everyone inside already knows you do your job, do it well, and to not antagonize you."

"Doesn't sound like a glowing reference, Mr. Secretary." Gibbs took a quick drink of his coffee. "Sounds like you already expect me to bully and push."

"We all know you're not a politician, Gibbs. I'm not expecting you to be. I'm wanting someone at the head of this agency that can do the job without all of the problems." Gibbs shook his head.

"I'm not your man, Sir." The two men stared at one another.

"So what do you suggest, Special Agent Gibbs?"

"Talk to him. He's a smart man. A little power hungry, but he's smart. He works hard. Replace him if you need to, but I'm not your man." The two sat in silence for a moment, the politician not sure of where to go next.

"I would like for you to be the solution, Gibbs."

"I understand that." Gibbs took another swallow of his coffee.

"You're not going to budge, are you?"

"Nope. I'm better solving cases than I ever would be riding a desk." The men shared a smile and a nod as they parted ways.

########

Sam finished another day and crawled into bed exhausted. Bill had informed her that the phone lines would be hooked up the next day. The house was lined, the barn was as well, there were two phones in the barn for some bizarre reason. One in the milk room, and one in the far aisle, almost on the opposite end of the building. Both were cordless, which Sam questioned. If there needed to be lines, how could the phones operate without being attached? Bill had just smiled and told her they'd work.

Sure enough, by noon the next day, the workers were putting the final touches on the phone line to her house. In good old prairie tradition, Sally and her husband were there to see and celebrate with her. With smiles all around, Sam picked up the slip of paper she had with the contact information given to her by Abby.

Her new phone number was written and taped to the wall next to the now operative phone. Sam picked up the handset and carefully followed the directions to dial. A one for long distance, three numbers to define the area code, and then seven more numbers to dial her friend. She waited with her lower lip held between her teeth.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings. And then loud music behind a bubbly voice.

"Abby Scuitto, Dark Mistress of Forensics." Sam grinned and waved to Sally, letting her know she'd gotten through. "How can I help you?"

"Hi, Abby!" Sam paused a moment. "This is Sam. I have a phone at my house!" Abby laughed and turned the music off, putting the phone on speaker. Gibbs had just entered the lab, and she motioned for him to be quiet.

"I know! They got it up fast!"

"I was wondering if you guys were behind this." Sam laughed. "You should hear what people are saying! The town's going nuts! Not had this much excitement in a long time."

"Made the local news, did you?"

"The gossip column, anyway." Sam drew a deep breath. "Thank you guys so much! I'm so glad you got home, and I was thinking of mailing you a letter, but figured you'd have a post card or something if you were ok. But no news is good news, right?" Sally rolled her eyes, laughing.

"You could say that." Abby was grinning widely. "Do you like having a phone?"

"I don't know yet." She could hear the confusion in Sam's voice. "This is the first call I've made. It's nice, but strange." She grinned, knowing she'd be afraid to tell anyone about this conversation. "They gave me cordless phones so I could walk around, but I'm afraid to leave where the phone is. How far can I walk away? The last time I talked on one of these it had a cord and it dialed around. This is nice, but do I have to stand by the base? Wouldn't a cord be better?"

Gibbs smirked to Abby and walked out, leaving his beloved lab rat to explain the ins and outs of the telephone to their rural buddy. He signed his request for her number, and Abby nodded. By the end of the day, all six of them had her number, and when her phone rang as she sat down to milk, she jumped at the shocking noise.

She picked up the handset and looked for the button that would shut it up. Oh, yes, the green one. She pushed it and held it to her ear before speaking softly.

"Hello?"

"Hi." Gibbs voice was quiet. "How're you doing?"

"I'm good." Sam smiled at the phone. "Almost jumped out of my skin when this thing rang. It's loud." Gibbs chuckled into his phone, wishing he'd been there to see it.

They spoke for a few minutes with halting sentences and dropped thoughts. So many things they wanted to say, and yet so many things they'd never say. Both had lines they'd not cross, and they'd crossed them once. A second time would be a mistake, and not one worth making.

"I'm gonna be coming in a few days to get the stuff from the car. If it's freed, that is."

"Sure is." Sam smiled at the thought of seeing her friend again. "Got it towed up here yesterday."

"Had to tow it, huh?"

"Yeah. Think it's the battery. Wouldn't turn over." They were quiet for another moment. "Do you want me to ship the stuff to you?"

"No. Some of it's a little sensitive. Abby got some stuff that may need to be repacked, assuming it's still good." They were quiet for a moment longer.

"Well, I gotta get to milking."

"Ok. Talk to you later."

"Great. Um, when you fly in, do you want me to pick you up?"

"Maybe." He sanded for a moment. "Night, Sam."

"Night, Gibbs." Both hung up and smiled.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to my amazing and over-worked beta, Headbanger Rockstar! LOVE YOU! !

Note: I love children's imaginations. I think they're often wasted on watching tv *ducks* and anyway, I was giving my "sister's" kid a bath this morning so we could get to church on time (still not left yet) and the little boy reaches up with his rubber ducky, slaps the glasses from my eyes, and cheers. I asked him why. He proceeded to tell me that it was a "robber ducky". "Hims wobded you." Yes. I laughed. I hope you did, too. Now go find a toddler to giggle at as they learn the language and mess up words! :)

############

"Take a few days, Gibbs. Think on it."

"My answer is going to be the same, Sir." SecNav sighed heavily.

"I realize that's probably going to be the case, but please understand that I need someone who is not going to be causing problems."

"Vance can…"

"Vance told me that he'd run his agency as he saw fit, Gibbs. Told me to keep out of how he handles his people."

"And what makes you think I'd do any different?" The Secretary of the Navy was quiet for a moment.

"I know I'll not get a guarantee from you, Gibbs. But you understand integrity, honor, and ranks of authority." Gibbs drew in a deep breath. He had no idea what Vance had said, but it must have been something. For his money, he thought Vance was a decent Director. As with any director, he played games. He'd seen it less with Morrow, far too much with Jenny, and again with Vance.

Maybe he would take a few days. Maybe during that time, he'd find a way to get Vance to redeem himself. For all of his confidence in his abilities, Gibbs wasn't sure he'd be a great leader.

########

Sam dialed the now-familiar number once again. Abby answered, just like always, and the women chatted and caught up on the news of the day. The Gothic scientist had just gotten home from bowling and was excited about her scores, while Sam was reporting the successful delivery of Curly's baby girls.

Sam described the little doelings, letting Abby choose names for them. It was a long process, the four babies receiving the names of Ashley, Jane, Scarlet, and for the giggles, Lady Gaga. When Sam asked who Lady Gaga was, Abby laughed and played what Sam determined was the worst song she'd ever heard. If it was indeed music.

The unlikely friends ended their call minutes later, allowing Sam to feed the now bleating babies. She finished feeding them, took them outside and cleaned their box. She brought them back in while she waited for her dinner to finish cooking, and just as she sat, her phone rang again. With a smile on her face, she answered. Only one person called this late.

"Hey, Gibbs."

#######

Early the next morning, Gibbs smirked to himself as he waited to board his flight. He'd talked to Sam as she ate her dinner, never once letting on that he'd be there by the next evening. It didn't seem to him that three weeks had passed along with another blizzard for her, two cases for the team, and a short weekend that seemed to fly by when he laid down on his couch for a nap.

He yawned and thought back to the last conversations he'd had with SecNav. The man was determined that Gibbs would be the next Director, and Gibbs was determined that even though Vance could be a pain in the ass, that the younger man was a better choice. He led men and women in the field. He could fill in when needed. But the Marine felt he didn't have the tact or patience for the job.

His flight was called, and he stood, walking to the ramp. His only bag was a carry-on that included clothes for three days, what the team had borrowed before, and a book. Deciding he'd rather sleep, he stashed his carry-on in the overhead compartment and closed his eyes. Three hours later, he woke when the plane landed with a slight jerk.

He followed the signs to the car rentals, showing the receipt for his pre-rented vehicle. He also produced the receipt for the other vehicle that was sitting at Sam's, and the check he'd been requested to offer for it. The clerk smiled and called his manager.

The mess took a bit to sort out, however, by the time he was done, the clerks were thrilled, NCIS had a vehicle for less than the check had been for, and he was on the road and on "vacation". He whipped down highways that were now completely snow free. The landscape was still barren, but it had a sort of stark beauty to it that he'd not paid attention to before on cross country drives.

#######

The clear roads let him get to the tiny town in nearly half the time he expected. He looked at his watch and pulled into the diner. Sam would feel the need to stop chores and sit down for coffee with him, and he didn't want to put her through the delay. Besides, his cup was empty. He needed more coffee. And he didn't want to drive for another hour before having more.

Gibbs walked in and fought the urge to laugh. Sam hadn't been kidding when she said the people had nothing better to do than to get into everyone else's business. He wondered if he had lost his hearing, or if it really had just fallen silent.

"Morning." Conversations restarted, and Gibbs had his answer. He smirked as the woman behind the counter approached with cup and coffee carafe in hand.

"Hi." Phyllis smiled at the handsome silver haired man as he sat. "Coffee?"

"Please."

"Anything else I can get for you?" Her voice was syrupy sweet. "We've got a special today of corned beef hash, two eggs, pancakes, and grits."

"Sounds good. I'll take the eggs over easy." Phyllis smiled and sauntered back to her window, shouting back the order. Now it was time to gather information.

"So, where you from? Not driving a truck, I see."

"Nope." Gibbs smirked, but figured there wasn't any harm in answering her questions. Having grown up in a small town, he well understood the mystery of any new face. "Just here to visit an old friend." Phyllis' eyes brightened.

"Oh? Where ya headed to, Honey?"

"I'm headed out to Sam's."

Phyllis sat, her eyes widened as she imparted what, to her, was a matter of life and death. She told in hushed tones of Ellis' death, of how Sam had chosen again and again to not date anyone from town, even threatening men who showed up to date her. Gibbs smirked, remembering the conversation regarding the man with the suitcase and engagement ring.

He nodded politely, his fist clenched under the table as the woman went on and on. He heard about the most recent drug overdose, and of child porn. He had his fill of disgust long before his greasy breakfast landed on the table before him.

"That woman is terrible, Mister. I tell you, she's evil. She stays out there by herself, comes to town and starts up with people. Honestly. You should have heard what she said to me! Blamed ME for my divorce! Said my youngest is a bastard. When that Jones boy overdosed last week, did she come to the funeral? No. And you know, being that I'm sure she's the one who sold him the stuff, she should have had the decency to come to his funeral. Some respect, at least.

"Everyone knows she got started into the drugs when that man was sick. They said they was married, but people like that, you can never tell. His "family" still comes out every year and visits her. I don't buy it." Her eyes narrowed. "Do you know of anyone who visits their dead child's spouse?" Jethro had the quick thought that yes, had he passed, Jack would still be visiting Shannon.

"He died, and she just keeps staying out there. Alone." Phyllis looked as if she really believed all of this. "And then, these people got lost this last winter, and they stayed out at her place." Her voice dropped to be even quieter. "I heard there were six men, and she, well, you know." She dropped her eyes. "You just be careful out there, Mister. She's not good people." There was a pause. "No matter what she says. You be careful with that woman."'

"Thanks for the heads up." He glared at the offensive woman and stood.

"Hey! You didn't eat or pay."

"Nope. And I won't." Gibbs glared at her, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. "I don't eat with pigs." He looked at the board, tossed the $5.00 for the meal to the floor, dropped a single penny for a tip, and walked out, slamming the door hard behind him.

Gibbs flew down the road at a faster pace than before. He was genuinely worried now. The garbage he'd heard was more than vicious. His gut was going crazy, and he dialed her number more than once, getting more nervous every time it rang with no answer.

He pulled into her drive and watched as the large bobcat he'd admired on his last visit moved a scoop of smashed wood from the yard. Sam looked up from her task, her face a stern mask of frustration, her eyes narrowed as she tried to see who was in the sedan.

When he stood from the car, her face relaxed into an easy smile, all traces of fear hidden. His gut churned harder, wondering what had happened to make her so uneasy. Whatever it was, he was sure it wasn't a runaway goat. Not even Jag could have caused this much damage.

Sam had already shut off the large machine, climbing down from her perch with practiced grace.

"Hi! Didn't expect to see you so soon! Should have called, I'd have come picked you up!" She walked forward and accepted the hug he offered.

"Looks like you'd have been a little too busy. What happened?" Sam tried to change the subject, but he held firm. "Sam?"

"Nothing, Gibbs." She started to walk away, and he caught her by the arm. "You're out here to get your stuff, Gibbs. Not try to figure out the weird stuff that makes up a small town."

He let her go for now, promising himself that he'd get answers later. She headed to the barn, talking as she went, and he followed. Something had her spooked. When she handed him the milk dishes as if nothing was wrong and asked him to carry them up to the house while she finished moving the bucket of trash, he knew it was bigger than he was comfortable with. She didn't want him outside.

He entered the house and wasn't surprised to find that the fire was nearly out. He scraped the grate, tossed in a small log, and waited. He heard the engine start up on the cat, and watched as she drove it to a pile that hadn't been there before. He moved to the kitchen window and looked out.

The fence that he'd nearly lost his life by during the blizzard was gone. Not all of it, but a good twenty feet was demolished. By the time the damage was all cleared away, a good section on both sides of the damage would have to be removed, as well. He guessed there would be a good forty feet by the time it was all done.

He heard the cat shut off, and walked to the door. She came in, carrying a small bottle of bourbon with her. A small, slightly embarrassed smile crossed her face.

"Don't want to drink alone." He opened the cupboard by his head and pulled out two mugs.

"Looks like you had a rough day. What happened?"

"Not gonna get out of this, am I?"  
>"Nope." Sam sighed as Gibbs settled into "his" chair to listen.<p>

"Problems in town. One of the kids from the school overdosed, and, well, I'm the person of suspicion." She looked up to see him looking confused. "Let me start from the beginning."

"Yeah." He smirked. "Stopped in town for coffee. Got an earful."

"Oh, you met Phyllis?" Gibbs fairly growled. "You did. What did she have to say?"

Jethro took a sip of his bourbon before relaying his experience at the diner. Sam downed her two fingers without so much as a wince for the burn and stood. She looked out the window, simply listening as Gibbs spoke. He watched, concerned, as she began to pace. Her arms were held tight to her chest, her hands balled into fists below her tightened arms. Her head was down, and her face was growing ashen.

"Talk to me, Sam." He watched as she poured herself slightly less than a finger and swallowed. When she finally spoke, her tones were hushed, as if afraid of waking some horrible beast.

"Ellis and I chose to stay here because we grew up here." She stopped speaking for a moment. "His family left when he was 15. He stayed and worked for my father, going to school and graduating. His mom was sick, and his dad was drunk." She looked at Gibbs with tortured eyes.

"That was then. She got better, and he stopped drinking. He never hit her or Ellis, but he wasn't taking care of them. So Ellis stayed here with us." Gibbs nodded, wondering where her deep loyalty came from. "His dad lost the farm, just because he couldn't take care of her and the younger kids."

Gibbs nodded, and Sam took a moment, collecting her thoughts. He watched as she paced like a caged animal. She stopped before the picture of the man she'd married years before. Her hand unconsciously rose and touched his face, a move Gibbs could understand as a relief for emotional distress.

"What happened?" She jerked to the sound of his voice, as if having forgotten he was there.

"My parents were killed in a car accident." Gibbs closed his eyes, keeping himself sitting so he didn't crowd the floor by joining her in her pacing. "I was 18, just turned 18." She shrugged. "We'd gotten married two days before, and decided we'd drive as far as we could on the $300.00 we had saved." She smiled at the memory.

"We wanted to see if we could get to Vegas."

"Nice place for a honeymoon."

"Yeah." Sam nodded, a sad smile still on her features. "We didn't get that far. Pulled into a campground to sleep, and the park rangers had our names."

"How'd they find you?"

"Ellis' little sister knew where we were going. When they got the call that my parents were…"

"They had the police put out a BOLO." Sam nodded. Gibbs waited.

"We came home, and our neighbors were talking about how it was perfect timing. We inherited the farm, and my father, who had a history of domestic violence, was out of the way." She shuddered unconsciously. Gibbs waited and watched.

"That was the first time we had problems. Nothing much. Just some stupid stuff." She shrugged. "Didn't even cause a lot of trouble. It was just annoying."

"But it got worse." The whispered affirmation barely reached his ears. "What happened when he joined?"

"He always wanted to serve." Pride laced her voice. "Even when we were kids and were playing Cowboys and Indians, he wanted to be a soldier. When he got older and saw the uniforms and heard the story of the Code Talkers, he knew." She turned to Gibbs, her chin held high. "He knew, that no matter what, he would honor those who served before him, and wear the uniform they wore."

"Good man."

"He was." She turned back to the window. "He signed and shipped off to basic six weeks later. His service was for four years to start with." She shrugged. "We talked about it, and decided that we'd keep the farm."

"So you stayed here while he left."

"Sometimes for years at a time."

"How long did he serve?"

"Twenty years. He retired from the Marines." She wiped her hand across her face. "He would be gone for months at times. His longest time away was three years."

"What did you do?"

"Letters. We wrote to one another daily. I got Sally and her husband to watch the farm for the two months he was states side." She sighed. "I could be without him on base, or I could be without him here, keeping our future safe." Silence filled the room for several minutes. "Sometimes I regret that decision, but most of the time, I'm proud of it."

"In all that time, you never got a phone?" She chuckled and shook her head.

"No. I know it sounds dumb, but we were fine with the letters. He'd show up, and I'd have no idea he was coming home. I'd walk in from the barn, and all of the magnets on the fridge would be turned upside down." She started to laugh, remembering.

"This one time, I came in, half asleep, and didn't notice the magnets. I got a bowl of cereal, ate, and the whole time, he was watching me from right there." She pointed to the desk in the corner. "I turned around, expecting to sit down and write to him, and screamed instead."

Gibbs grinned. He'd not had the opportunity to do that to Shannon, but he'd surprised Kelly, and it had been priceless. The relaxed smile on his friends face told him that this memory was among her most treasured. She stood in silence for a few minutes, her eyes showing the depth of emotions she was wading through. Happiness, grief and pain flashed across her face. Gibbs kept waiting.

"When he came home with his terminal orders, we were so happy. We had all of these plans. The farm was going strong, and his nieces and nephews were excited to be able to come for the summer and not spend time with just me, but their Uncle Ellie as well."

"Uncle Ellie, huh?"

"Yeah." She grinned, pure teasing in her smile. "You should have heard him complain about it, too. He could whine with the best of them over that."

"Let me guess, your idea?"

"More like my fault." She blushed. "I'd call him Ellie sometimes instead of Ellis, and one of the kids heard me say it." Gibbs smirked. He could see how that conversation went. "He got a little upset with me." She snickered, seeing his reddened ears in her mind.

"Not many Summers, huh?"

"Three." She cracked her neck, pulling herself away from the happiness. Now wasn't the time to get lost in those. "He was getting tired, got nosebleeds. He started to bleed rectally, but the doctor didn't run more tests, and we thought it was hemorrhoids. I came in from the barn one day to find that he'd passed out from a nosebleed." She shrugged. "That's when they found it."

"Cancer?"

"He had apparently been sick for some time. He thought it was age catching up with him. He needed more sleep, wasn't as strong, little things like that. So he didn't go to the doctor." She sat and met Gibbs eyes.

"The cancer had spread everywhere, and there was nothing they could do. It was everywhere, and in stage four. So they sent him home with Hospice and what he needed to be comfortable. His lungs were full of tumors, his kidneys were beginning to fail, and he had a brain tumor, which ironically was killing his nerves, not allowing him to feel the pain he should have felt."

"And you took care of him." Her eyes misted over.

"I lived for him and our dreams and hopes for 20 years while he did his job. I was proud of him. I still am, and I always will be. We had our bad times, and our good times, and times when I wondered if it was worth it, but at the end, when he died here, at home, where he wanted to be, it was all worth it."

Gibbs had nothing to say. He nodded to her and went outside, feeling the need to clear his mind. The sun was shining, the weather was nearly 50, and yet he could see clouds heavy with snow coming in from miles away. The weather was as intense and amazing as the woman he'd just left inside.

She came out and handed him his mug, now filled with coffee. He accepted it and sipped, nodding to the wooden carnage before them.

"What happened, Sam?"

"Local idiots." She sighed. "I'm the weirdo. Anything happens, I'm the cause of it, apparently." She paused a moment. "Young Pete Jones has been on drugs for a while now. Everyone knows it. There's not many jobs, there's not much opportunity, and well, I don't hire often because the men all have the wrong idea, and the women don't want to do the work. So I take on kids in the summer and teach them what I can. Makes me even more unpopular."

"Was Pete one of the kids you worked with?"

"Yeah. Long time ago. I had to fire him, if you want to call it that. He was yelling at the other kids, and I caught him trying to sell some stuff to one of the younger kids. I reported him to one of the cops when he came out to get his nephew, and the next time I went into town, I found out that I was being blamed for the drugs."

"Anyone investigate?"

"Nobody even came out." She sighed. "They did a drug test on me only because I demanded it to clear my name."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. Asked the editor of the paper to print it, too. She did. Along with a letter about how far some people will go to make themselves look like good citizens."

"You're kidding me."

"Nope. Got bad enough that I got home from Ellis' funeral to find that fences had been torn down while I was gone, and four of my best animals were out there in that pasture where I'm piling this batch of wasted fence with bullets through their heads."

Gibbs glare turned murderous as he looked out over the currently bleak landscape.

"Did you report this?"

"Oh, yeah." Sam scoffed. "Freaking police asked if I knew who did it. If any animals got hurt. I said no to both, and they never even came out. Told me if I saw anything else to call it in, just so there'd be a report." She made a noise and spit with sound only, letting out with a string of words Gibbs was glad he didn't understand.

"I don't like this, Sam."

"Neither do I." She turned to him, determination on her face. "I've fought for our dreams my entire life, Gibbs. A bunch of sod-busters won't drive me away. I've stayed strong and fought for the last 27 years. I'm not letting them win."

His brow furrowed. He looked at her a moment, taking in her unwrinkled face.

"Married at 18, he was in for 20 years, he lived 3 years, been gone 4. You're not 45." Her face split into a wide grin just before laughter pealed from her lips.

"You're awesome, Gibbs." She patted his shoulder as she walked past him. "You're awesome."


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: Don't own it!

Note: Thanks, Headbanger! You ROCK! :) Love you! much! !

Note: Tissue warning ahead... (Headbanger Rockstar insisted)

#########

Gibbs found Sam in the barn after taking a few minutes to himself. He briefly looked over the area where the fence had been wrecked. The tires looked the same as every other tractor he'd seen. Of course, he wasn't Abby. She would probably find some tiny speck of dust that she could match to a driveway 50 miles away.

"Not as bad as it looks." Sam's voice was quiet. "They didn't kill anybody this time."

"Still isn't right."

"No, but it's progress."

"Funny thing, progress." Sam chuckled. "Doesn't always look like much."

"Nope." She agreed, starting to climb the ladder to the loft. "You coming up?"

"Oh, you'll let me this time?"

"Sure." She shot him a smile. "You're not cramping." He shook his head and followed her up the narrow ladder.

Once on the top, he turned and looked at his surroundings. There were lawn bags full of leaves, one of which Sam was currently shaking down over the goat feeders. He smirked as the funny animals pushed and gobbled as if being given croutons and bacon bits on an otherwise bland salad.

"I didn't know they liked leaves."

"Oh, yeah. More than I like chocolate."

"And I've seen you…" A twig hit his chest.

"Hey, now. No making fun of the fat chick that feeds you." He laughed, making a silly wave of his hand to give some apology that he knew wasn't really needed. Still laughing, she nodded her head toward the catwalk. "This way, Gunny."

He followed her as she trotted across the boards and into an area that resembled a cross between a storage shed and a museum. On the wall hung a Marine sword, carefully preserved behind glass with a uniform and cover set below it. A gigantic pair of brilliantly shined shoes completed the picture. He stepped up to it and read a small brass plate lovingly inscribed.

_To my Uncle Ellis, may you go with God and rest in peace. Thank you for being there for us. We'll make you proud. Joseph Ellis Yellow Hand_

Sam stood watching him as he took in the uniform and medals encased before him. She started to speak, but stopped herself. Words weren't needed right now. He walked from the large case to the smaller one that held her husbands' medals and awards. His service bars were in proper order, showing that whoever had arranged them had done them with incredible care.

"The kids did those for me when they came down for his funeral."

"They did a good job." He looked sideways at her. "How many kids do you have?"

"We never had any." She sighed. "We wanted kids, but I can't carry them." She'd found her fingernail to be fascinating for a moment. "So we spoiled his nieces and nephews. Sort of took them over when we could."

"How many are there?"

"Just four. Joey's the oldest." She smirked. "Joseph. He outgrew Joey years ago."

"How old is he now?"

"20." He could hear the pride in her voice. "He's going to school to be a veterinarian. He's so smart, and he loves to work, especially with projects like this." She held out a booklet stapled together with a child's writing on it.

Gibbs flipped it open and read "coupons". Some were for hugs, some for filling water troughs, some for being good, but the last one made him laugh. It was a coupon good for one full day of no nasty smells.

"He was going through this thing where he was mixing all sorts of gross things together, and then he'd _eat _whatever weirdness he'd concocted." She took the booklet back, rubbing her finger over it gently. "This was the first time I'd gotten pregnant, and I was so sick." Gibbs leaned against the wall and listened. "He came in and woke me up, so proud of whatever he'd made, and put it right in my face."

Gibbs could almost picture what happened next.

"It stunk so bad, and I got sick all over the poor kid. I mean, a skunk would have smelled better."

"And comes the coupon." Sam nodded, smiling.

"And comes the coupon." She turned back to the desk, letting her friend walk around as she put things away in plastic sheets and boxes.

"Some of your letters?" She blushed and nodded.

"Yeah. When I'm having a bad day, I come up here and read." She held out a sheet of paper, and he took it, pulling his glasses out from his pocket. "It's the last letter he wrote."

_My Sam,_

_When I came home, I expected to be here with you for another twenty years. It's not fair, what I asked you to do. To stay here keeping our farm going while I was off. I should have had you with me or not signed up after my first tour. _

_You seemed so happy every time I came home, and I loved having a home to come to. I have loved for years to know that "our" kids have somewhere safe to spend their summers. I have loved having a wife who sends me a letter every day, with three on Friday's so I have one for Saturday and Sunday. I loved it even more as I watched my friends get upset that their wives were in bed next to them every night and yet they hardly spoke._

_I loved the letters where you'd send copies of the kids report cards, and it made me happy every time I got to be the one to send them a present for doing so well. You gave me that, Sam. You let me be a part of their lives, and watch them grow up, more than their parents did. _

_I loved reading about success at the markets, how the price of eggs rose, the new chickens with the colored shells, and about the craziness with the goats. I never felt alone, Sam. I had you with me every day. And I love you so much for it._

_I'm sorry I failed you. I know this is the last time I'll be able to make it up here to my old room. I'm sitting here at my desk looking around, and all I see is you. I see you in the mended bedspread still on the old mattress. I see you in the patched up holes in the roof, and I see you in the boxes I didn't know you kept of my letters. _

_You have been better to me than I deserve. I'm sorry to be leaving you like this. My plans were so different. I wanted to have children. I wanted to watch your hair turn gray, to laugh with you over rotten things our grandchildren said or the fact that our old bodies wouldn't be able to keep up with our brains anymore. _

_You know I'm not great for saying things, but over the years, I've gotten pretty good at this letter thing. So I wanted to make sure there was no misunderstanding, Sam. Know that I love you. More than I know how to express, and I'll be waiting for you. _

_I'll be waiting up in my room, just like when we were elementary school and you came so we could swing. I'll be waiting up in my room over the storage, just like when we were teenagers and your father was going to be gone for a few hours. I'll be waiting like I was when you came to get me from the airport this last time. Palms sweating, heart beating fast, joy at your arrival filling me, and then I'll see you. _

_And even in death, I'll be complete. I love you, my wife. _

_Your husband, Ellis_

Gibbs took off his glasses and stood for a moment. When he handed the letter back to her, his hands were shaking slightly. Neither spoke for several minutes as silence healed wounds and wove understanding between the two.

#############

Lunch was long over, and Sam was chatting about the spare room and about where to put things. Gibbs offered to sleep on the couch, but his friend was having none of it. It took only an hour with both of them working, and the spare bedroom was once again usable.

He went to the barn and fed while she milked, making chores go faster than they had in ages for her. She showed him how to feed the babies with the buckets, and he smiled, understanding the draw of the four legged creatures. They were funny, intelligent, and to his surprise, capable of problem solving. Or something similar.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: Don't own it. I just play with the characters.

Note: Special thanks to my long suffering beta, Headbanger Rockstar. Love you! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: This has some graphic violence against an animal for crime's purpose. So a warning is here.

#############

Lunch was long over, and Sam had got him into chatting about the spare room and about where to put things. Gibbs offered to sleep on the couch, but his friend was having none of it. It took only an hour with both of them working, and the spare bedroom was once again usable.

He went to the barn and fed while she milked, making chores go faster than they had in ages for her. She showed him how to feed the babies with the buckets, and he smiled, understanding the draw of the four legged creatures. They were funny, intelligent, and to his surprise, capable of problem solving. Or some similar skills set that had them figuring out how to get out of their pens and into the ones being fed first.

When they headed into the house, the water tanks were full, Jag had a biscuit, everyone had their evening supply of hay, and Gibbs was exhausted. He looked over to Sam, who trudged along talking about how nice it was that the weather was getting better, as it made the chores easier.

"This is easier?"

"Oh, yeah." She scoffed at him playfully. "This one day, I had a house full of people who had no idea what they were doing, and this one guy, trying to be all…" She stopped midsentence as his foot met her butt once again. "Fine." She stuck out her tongue, and he rolled his eyes.

Dinner was quiet, with Gibbs nursing coffee over a crossword as she fried the ever wonderful toasted cheese sandwiches over the stove. He spoke out a few clues, and she tossed out suggestions. Between them, they had the puzzle done in minutes, and Gibbs looked amused.

"Not very big."

"No. People around here don't do much for puzzles." She hid a yawn. "Besides, with a paper that comes out once a week, who cares, right? Just buy a puzzle book in town."

"I guess." By the time he'd put the paper back into the box and his pencil back in her desk drawer, two bowls of soup and a stack of sandwiches sat on the table. They ate in silence, simply enjoying the companionship, totally understanding that conversation isn't always needed.

They readied for bed, seeming to find a rhythm and pace for sharing the small bathroom that gave them both privacy without delaying either of them. It was only ten when they finally bedded down, she in her room and he in his. Both slept within minutes.

A noise woke Gibbs, and he took a moment to realize what it was. Something was screaming in agony outside. He heard Sam's feet hit the floor, and he was on his feet and headed to the door before she could get there. He looked out, his eyes wide.

"Stay here!" He pointed to her, making his voice as hard and unforgiving as he could. "I mean it." He raced outside, taking in the carnage before him with a sickness growing in his stomach.

In the middle of her drive lay a hay bale with a pitchfork drilled into it. It had been soaked with gasoline, and set alight. The thing that caused his blood to run cold was the still struggling kid that had been impaled when the fork had been placed. A note was nailed to the fork, and he reached down, pulling the heavy metal tool from the kid so he could break its neck without burning his hands.

He heard and felt the snap, grateful when the baby goat fell still. He stood, unaware of the pain in his unshod feet. Tears blurred his vision as he looked at the "message" left by unknown assailants. He knew this kid. This had been the one who he'd fed that first night they'd stayed. This little fellow had sucked on his chin until Gibbs had gotten his act together and had the bottle into his mouth. He couldn't imagine telling Sam.

A gasp behind him had him turning.

"I told you to stay inside!" He thundered. "What if they're watching! What if they're waiting to pick you off!" Tears sprang into her eyes as she raced back to the house. Once inside, she slumped to the floor. It had started all over again.

He came in several minutes later after checking to be sure the other animals were safe. None of the others had been hurt. The babies were jumpy, but they were physically fine. The does could sense something wrong, and he spoke to them quietly as he checked to be sure none of them were harmed.

He glanced up, hearing a noise, and his stomach plummeted. Ellis' room. He turned on the loft lights and raced up the ladder. He jogged across the catwalk, his mind finally registering his aching feet.

To his relief, the room was untouched. He sat, rubbing his feet, afraid to pick up anything to help him stay warm on the way to the house. When the animals had settled and he'd checked the barn a second time, he rushed back to the house, kicking himself for yelling at her and for leaving her alone for so long.

He heard yelling as he neared the house, and his pace quickened. Shit. They were inside.

"NO! I already told you! I don't know who did it! If I saw who it was, I would have shot them myself!" Sam pounded the wall in frustration. "Someone came onto my property, killed another one of my animals, and all you can do is tell me it's too bad I didn't see who did it?"

She was quiet for another moment, obviously listening. "That's bullshit! And you know it!" With an angry shout, she slammed the phone down. She turned to Jethro, her eyes lit with terror. "They're not coming." Her voice was quiet, as if she was in shock, which he wouldn't doubt. "They're not coming." This time her voice broke, her steps shaky as she headed to her desk, phone in hand.

She tried to dial, only to drop it several times before nearly tossing across the room.

"Don't do that, Sam." Gibbs spoke quietly. "Give it here."

"Why?"

"So I can make a few calls."

"They won't do any good." He sank to his knees before her, his hands resting on her thighs.

"Let me, Sam. Please." They locked eyes for a moment, and Sam handed him the phone.

Within minutes, Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs was shouting into the phone to the local LEO's. He let loose with a string of terms and accusations she couldn't even begin to comprehend. He apparently received a similar reply, for when he hung up, he dialed again.

Sam tuned out what he was saying. She heard him go off on a rant to Tony, and let him talk. Her mind whirled along paths of what she needed to do. The animals needed to be cared for. That meant they needed to be gone soon. One was dead, and this was the first attack. Four had died the last time this started, and she had no hopes that it would end so easily this time.

Tears ran down her face as she realized her time of farming had come to an end. She had nothing left to give, and she was exhausted. This last blow was just more than she could handle. Jeremiah had only been three weeks old. Someone who would kill a kid in that manner showed no humanity at all.

Her ears caught something, and she tuned into his words for a moment.

"Yeah, a note." He listened for a moment. "This is your only warning." She was unaware of the low keening coming from her. It wasn't until she realized she was being held tightly that she heard her cries.

"Shhhhhhhhh." He rocked her slowly. Out of all the crime scene's he been to, this was perhaps one of the worst. Not simply because he had witnessed it, but because he knew the victim. His heart broke, knowing the woman he held would be forever changed, and he could do nothing for her. "Shhhhhhhhh. We'll make it. Shhhhhhhhh."

Gibbs knelt by her chair until he felt her cry herself out. When she went slack, he stood, picking her up and carrying her to her bed. He settled her under her covers and began his phone calls once more.

While Sam slept the sleep of emotional exhaustion, Gibbs had three agencies on their last nerve. Tobias had been woken from a deep sleep at 4, he'd placed a call to one of his associates, who had called the governor's office, SecNav had received a call at 5, agreeing to give Gibbs another week off to help Sam get things settled, and to his amusement, he got to call the DEA when McGee discovered that the drug abuse totals for the area in question had more than quadrupled since the current sheriff had taken office, yet the arrests had dropped to the single digits.

Gibbs had also found Sally's number and risked the wrath of both women by calling and requesting help on the farm for the day. He'd never been so glad a farmer would pay for satellite every month. He hated to think of what he'd say if he had to call the café and ask for Phyllis to pass a message. He breathed a sigh of relief when a truck with three men and a woman pulled in shortly before daybreak.

The woman he correctly guessed was Sally strode into the house, her face tight.

"Where is she?" Gibbs held his hand up for quiet.

"She's still sleeping." Sally stopped and took in the man before her.

"You Gibbs?"

"Yep. Sally?"

"The one and only." She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "What happened? Besides you showing up, I mean." By the glare she received, she guessed the man was eaten alive by guilt.

"Trust me, Mr. Gibbs, it's not your fault."

"It's just Gibbs, and I'm guilty, as in I'm the one who showed up and didn't say more in the restaurant. I should have hit that…"

"Oh, no." Sally smirked. "Believe me, refusing to eat with pigs is probably the best thing anyone has ever said in her defense." All amusement left her face, and she stepped closer to the silver haired Fed before her. "I promise you, though, that if you hurt her, at all, I will find a way to get you. She's been through enough. So if you're here to cause trouble, or to mess around, I suggest you leave."

"Not gonna hurt her, Sally." His eyes hardened, returning her glare. "Not gonna let anyone else hurt her, either." The two held a silent battle as they sized one another up.

A strangled cry came from Sam's room as the woman woke. Memories of before crashed in with the visual of Jeremiah's burned and pierced body, making her ill. Before she could get to the door, Sally was by her bed with a bucket. Gibbs headed out to finish gathering evidence.

"I'll take care of that." Gibbs strode quickly toward the last of the mess from the night.

"We can get it."

"No, you can't." Gibbs squared his shoulders. "I need to get it marked and labeled for evidence."

"You one of those cops that was out here?"

"Yeah. Gibbs." The other man nodded.

"Aaron, Sally's husband." The two shook hands and Aaron walked away, telling his men to keep an eye on him. He didn't trust anyone at this point. Not with Sam.

#########

"I need to do something, Sally." Sam sat at the table, her hands wrapped around a mug of steaming coffee. Her friend was busy making breakfast for the crew, and wouldn't let Sam help.

"No, you need to sit and think this through."

"I have, Sally." Sam sighed and put her head in her hands. "I can't do this again."

"Gibbs said he'd help."

"And look what happened while he was there."

"It's not his fault, Sam."

"That's not what I meant." Tears sprang to her eyes once again. "He was right here and couldn't stop it." Her breathing became labored, and Sally sat by her, steadying her friend, keeping the panic at bay.

"What are you wanting to do, Sweetie?"

"I need to call them."

"Ok. Can you do it, or do you want me to?" Sam started to speak, only to stop, her eyes wide. Tears ran down her face as she leaned into Sally.

"I can't. I can't do it."

When Gibbs came in to store more evidence in his room, Sally was sitting at the table with Sam, the phone on speaker. A calm voice, obviously belonging to an older man filled the air.

He spoke in a lilting tongue Gibbs didn't recognize. Sally looked completely lost, yet she sat in rapt attention. He recognized one word, and it was a word that made Sam relax. "Joseph."

Four hours later, a rusted out truck drove at speeds which impressed Gibbs. Once the truck stopped, a young man with long black hair uncurled his lanky frame. He nodded silently to Aaron, not lifting his hand to wave. His eyes settled on Gibbs for a moment, seeming to look into the older man's soul.

Gibbs stepped forward, extending his hand. The young man met his touch, barely letting their fingers touch before dropping his hand. He never spoke, yet Gibbs felt he'd been measured and found wanting.

Sam had come from the house when she heard the vehicle, and she greeted him with open arms. When he spoke, Gibbs was surprised by the deep bass voice that rolled like quiet thunder.

"What happened, An' Sam?"

"Same crap. A baby this time." Joseph tilted his head, glancing back at Gibbs. A touch to his arm had him walking toward the agent.

"What are you doing here?"

"My team and I got stuck here, your Aunt helped us."

"Yes, and you got her a phone line." His eyes held something Gibbs couldn't read. It wasn't hostility, but it wasn't friendship, either. "I'm asking why you're back."

"To get some things." The younger man nodded, as if pleased with the answer.

"My uncle was a good man." He dropped his eyes, only to meet the older man's again. "His wife doesn't deserve this garbage. What are you going to do about it?" He tilted his chin in the direction of the town. "Those Anglos do nothing but cover their own asses and fry hers. Can you help her?"

He suddenly looked like a frightened child to Gibbs. Gone was the tough predator. Gone was the angry warrior. In his place stood a young man terrified for his aunt and what her future would hold.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: Don't own it!

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar for being my amazing beta! LOVE YOU! !

Note: Thanks to everyone who has alerted, favorited, and reviewed! If I've not gotten back to you yet, I'm sorry! I'll do my best!

#######

Gibbs worked by himself for another hour before he stepped into the barn again. He was pleasantly surprised by the attitude of the men. While none of them really warmed up to him, he wasn't the target of their glares, either.

He heard Joseph speaking, and wanted to find out what he could do to help now. Aaron had pointed to the younger man when he'd asked for a job.

"He's here now, Gibbs. Ask him." He observed the young man for a few minutes, learning a bit about him.

"No, that's not what I said. I'm not selling you anything. I'm offering to lease those four does you like for the space of one year. You keep their offspring, and you get to pick four others to go along. You get to keep their offspring, as well. At the end of the year, you turn them back over to my aunt." He listened to what the other person had to say, then scoffed, even though he pumped his fist in victory.

"Sure, I'll take two thousand for the years lease for ten does. If," here he stressed the word, "You purchase, at full price, four of this years' kid crop. Now, that's purchase, not lease."

He made some notes on the dry erase board that he'd moved out of the milk room. Gibbs eyes widened as he realized all of her best does were spoken for and had dates that were only hours away next to them. Joseph finished his deal and hung up the phone, nodding to Gibbs as he moved.

"How can I help you?"

"I was wondering the same thing." Joseph sighed, as if taking his time to think of a response. In reality, it was as if he was talking to his uncle once again, and the feeling left him unsettled.

"What do you know how to do?" Joseph kept his voice quiet.

"Anything you can teach me. I know how to feed the babies, the chickens, that sort of thing. But teach me."

"How about you help me upstairs?"

"I checked it out earlier. It hadn't been touched." Joseph's head lifted quickly.

"She took you up there, or you went on your own?"

"She showed it to me, and I wanted to make sure it was still ok after…" Gibbs motioned aimlessly in the direction of the door. The men shared an easy silence. "So, what do you want me to do up there?"

"We need to get it all down and into a safe place." He looked up as if afraid to see that it was already burning, or that papers were flying away. "My grandfather bought her a safe, and while most of it is in there, she brings some of it out when she gets lonely. And winters are lonely."

"All of those boxes, and there's more?" Joseph grinned and opened a door Gibbs hadn't thought to open earlier. Just inside the stood a vault-like structure. Joseph dialed the knob around and opened the safe, displaying boxes and portfolios filled with letters.

"Twenty years in there, Gibbs." The young man's voice was filled with something akin to wonder. "We lived to get his letters. They never failed. Every day, when we got home from school, we got a letter." He reached in a pulled out a box that had his name on it. A smile lit his eyes well before it found his mouth.

"I remember when I had my first day in school. I thought he was magic." He pulled out a card and showed it to Gibbs. "This came a week later, when I was scared to go anymore because my clothes weren't as nice, and sometimes I didn't have a lunch, and the kids would tease me, and I was nervous. He always knew what was going on, and it wasn't until I was older that I realized he wasn't magic. He had my aunt."

"They stayed involved, huh?"

"Oh, yeah." Another card passed to him, and Gibbs smiled at the picture of a teddy bear with a head-dress and bow. "They paid for school lunches once they realized my parents couldn't afford them. And my sisters always had new dresses for dances and I got a new ribbon shirt and jeans every year."

Gibbs listened as his companion rolled through memories, impressing on the older man the care needed when packing away the precious memories upstairs. Gibbs heard much the same story he'd heard the night before, only this time it came through the eyes of a child who had lived it.

He heard of Ellis and Sam welcoming the children into their home every summer, whether he was home or not. Joseph spoke in hushed tones as he related how his father had been in trouble, and his aunt and uncle had bailed him out and gotten him into treatment, keeping Joseph during that time. The young man revealed that he was several years older than his sisters, and he admitted to being jealous when his first baby sister came along, because he had to "share" his beloved Uncle Ellie and An' Sam.

"An' Sam, is that sort of like Uncle Ellie?"

"Nah." Joseph grinned. "She's just not an Aunt. She's an An'." Gibbs chuckled. In some strange way, he understood. Joseph continued talking as he packed up the vault, reorganizing so it would all fit with enough room for the boxes still upstairs.

Jethro decided the young man still hadn't figured everything out, but in the letters he'd looked at, he assumed that more than lunches and new dresses were provided by the couple. Flipping open a ledger, he nodded. Inside was a careful accounting of the first few years of Joseph's life. There were receipts for shoes, for utilities at an address he knew was not where he stood.

Joseph began climbing the ladder, and Gibbs followed, the young man now silent. He drew in a deep breath before crossing the catwalk. His steps led him to the case he'd built, and he looked down at it with respect. He lifted the top and pulled out his uncle's cover. Sitting on the bed, it was as if he forgot Gibbs was there. He put it on his head, wiggling it as if seeing if it would fit him now. His gaze turned to Gibbs, a shy smile giving way to his humor.

"I used to climb into his lap and take off his cover." He chuckled. "He'd tell me I'd be a man when it fit." As if deciding he'd spoken enough, Joseph stood and started to organize the room, carrying things to the pulley and giving orders to Gibbs regarding the care and packing of the items.

A greeting rang out, and Gibbs looked around him. The room was nearly empty, the only thing really remaining was the bed, desk and dresser. The letters had been moved downstairs, and with Joseph helping between phone calls, they were safely in the vault.

He looked over the edge, intending to shout down to the woman, but at the moment, she was staring at the board with a furious expression. He could feel the anger vibrating off of her, and decided in a moment of self-preserving wisdom, to stay topside just a bit longer.

"Joseph Ellis Yellow Hand!" He stepped back from the edge, staying where he could see and hear, but out of her vision. "What the hell do you think you're doing!"

"Keeping you and them safe!"

"By selling them off without telling me?" He towered over her, his face as furious as hers.

"You think I'd do that?"

"What it looks like to me! And what the hell are those prices? You know those animals are worth more than that! I'm losing enough already without you…" Joseph growled, his hands balling into fists.

As Gibbs watched the two powerhouses battle it out, he understood only bits and pieces of the conversation. They volleyed things back and forth, fighting with burning anger he knew was aimed at an unseen enemy, and not really at one another. He hoped they'd survive it and still speak to one another.

When Joseph bit out a comment and Sam's eyes looked like they'd explode in another minute, Gibbs almost called a cease-fire. Joseph's voice suddenly calmed from his shouting back to the calm rolling thunder Gibbs had already grown accustomed to.

"The animals aren't sold, An' Sam. They're leased. Those aren't purchase prices. Those are prices people will pay to have them for a year and keep their offspring. I'm giving you time, An' Sam. I'd never make you lose everything." Hurt colored his words.

"I'm not my father, or some Anglo looking to screw you over." He'd turned his back to his beloved aunt. "You've put me through school, you gave me a home in the summers to be away from him, and you think I'd do that to you?" Gibbs could see tears on the young man's face. "Never. I'd never do that to you. You and Uncle Ellis gave everything to me, and the only way I can help you now is to keep everyone safe while we get you somewhere safe." With all of the fight gone from him, he stalked silently into the sunlit yard.

Sam bit back a cry, curling into Sally who had appeared from around the corner, shaking her head up at Gibbs when the man had opened his mouth to speak.

"Oh, my God." Sam choked out her words. "What have I done? I just…" Her words were lost to Jethro once again as she lapsed into a language he found unfamiliar yet beautiful. He crossed the catwalk and shimmied down the ladder as quickly as he could, jogging to catch up with the young man he had a new respect for.

"Joseph?" He could hear the young man breathing, but couldn't see him. Several moments passed before he saw where the man sat.

A low shelter, not visible until the change in landscape was made obvious, protected Joseph from being seen. He stood, his chest bare. His hair blew in the gentle breeze that Gibbs had already learned never fully stopped.

The men gazed on one another, both seeming to make up their minds that they liked the other.

"I'm sorry I yelled at her." Joseph drew in a ragged breath. "I should have asked…"

"No, you did what needs to be done." Jethro began to relay the terror of the last few days with exacting detail. He watched as his new friend withdrew into himself, seeming to draw the pain filling the entire property into himself. He held up a hand, stopping Gibbs from speaking more.

"I've got a lot of sweating to do." At Gibbs' confused look, Joseph began to explain the small structure behind him and how it was used to purify a person's mind and spirit. He locked eyes with Gibbs once again, and Gibbs had the same feeling of having his soul stripped bare. "You have your own decisions to make." Joseph motioned toward a tree that had fallen years before. "Join me."

The men gathered wood and put the branches and small logs in the shelter on one end. Gibbs removed his shirt and followed his friend into the small space. Within minutes, heat and smoke filled the area, clouding Gibbs mind. Joseph spoke slowly, guiding Gibbs through the process of clearing his mind and heart. A peace unlike any other he'd known settled in his soul, and he let his mind go.

Sam and Sally spent hours getting paperwork in order for when people showed up to pick up the animals they'd leased. The first truck should be arriving before noon the next day, and Sam wanted to have everything ready so the emptying of the barn would be quick and efficient.

Several times, she broke down, tears blinding her has she signed forms and printed out pedigrees. Sally stayed by her the entire time, helping to organize paperwork and those who she had kept here for the day. Her husband came in and checked on them from time to time.

"I needed to ask Joseph something. But I think he and Joseph are in the lodge. I can't find them." He whispered this news to his wife after spending several minutes looking for the two.

"Good." Sally gave him a sad smile. "That's the best thing they can do for her right now." Her message was clear. Leave them be.

Inside the lodge, silence had enveloped the men. Joseph could feel his guide, and let himself go completely into the spirit's care. He saw with a clarity not usual for his years. He saw his aunt moving. He saw her rebuilding her life, learning to be content in a place that was good. He looked and saw her standing in a barn surrounded by children long after her hair had turned gray. He knew they were his children, that she was still a major factor in his life, and felt grateful to know that she would pass through this trouble with safety.

Beside him, his companion was having a far different experience. This was new to him, and while he felt relaxed, curiosity blended with fear. It was a mix of emotions he'd never experienced together. To his surprise, he could see someone approaching him, even though his eyes were closed. He watched as the person came and sat before him, right where the fire should have been. Or was. Gibbs stopped caring, interested only in what would happen next.

"Relax. You are fighting. Keeping your stress and anger."

"I'm not fighting. Just figuring." The stranger smirked.

"It is the same thing, Leroy Jethro Gibbs." A voice similar to Joseph's thrummed through his head. "You have many things to decide, one of which is taking on more responsibility at work."

"How do you know that?" The man chuckled.

"In the spirit world, all is known. Good and bad. Failures and successes. We will not always tell what you should do exactly, as it is your choice, but when you ask, answers are given."

"What do you think I should tell SecNav, then?" The man leaned closer and whispered something to the Marine. Gibbs felt his breath catch. It was not an answer per se, but the thought required to answer the spirit took him down paths he'd never considered.

With the help of the man he was sure he'd created in his mind, he saw his direction. He saw what SecNav was talking about when he said Gibbs was the best man at the moment for the job. It wasn't that he was the best politician, but he was the best to take NCIS through a time of recovery following mistakes and power plays caused by politicians.

It was his need to do what was best for those under his charge that set him apart, not his ability to force issues. It was his lack of respect for policy that made him valuable, not his need for recognition or power. It was his need to protect that SecNav wanted.

Understanding and peace flowed through him as he saw other paths in his life unfold. To his surprise, he saw himself sitting at a table with Sam years down the road. There was sawdust on his pants, and a dog lay at his feet. Milk pails and baby bottles littered the floor.

"Not what you expect?"

"No." Gibbs smirked. "What am I seeing?"

"What you want." That surprised Gibbs. "No, you're thinking wrongly again." Humor laced the now disembodied voice. "Don't look at her with that sort of future in mind. Think of what your heart truly desires."

It took several minutes, but Gibbs found his answer. Companionship. It was as if someone was pouring warm water down his head and neck. He could feel the heat, but wanted to stay under it. Looking around the space he'd occupied in his mind once more, he saw his unlikely companion. The man nodded, a placid smile on his face.

"Take care of my wife." And he was gone.

It could have been hours or seconds later, but Gibbs felt cold as the door to the lodge opened. He opened his eyes, realizing Joseph was speaking to him.

"I'm sorry, what?" Joseph smiled dopily at him, still coming out of his own headspace.

"I was getting too hot. Sorry."

"No, I think I was done." The men sat in silence, thinking back on their times. "Do you do this often?"

"Whenever I need to." Joseph yawned. "When my uncle first died, I stayed here and sweat every night. I didn't want to worry her that I was in danger, so I would wait until she was asleep." Gibbs smiled patiently. He was enjoying getting to know this young man. "Took about a week, before she told me to just sweat in the day." Joseph shook his head. "She was losing too much sleep making sure no one was trying to sneak up on me in the night."

"Nothing gets by her, huh?"

"Only if she wants it to." He grinned. "Come on. She'll make us mint tea."


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar for being my amazing beta! LOVE YOU! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: Still OOC and AU and fun.

##################

Gibbs walked into the small house behind Joseph, feeling a little apprehensive. The last he'd seen Sam and Joseph interact, it had been a near war, and with the relationships he'd had in the past, he was sure some sort of words would pass. They did, but not what he expected.

"Are you hungry?" Joseph grinned back to his buddy and nodded.

"Starving. Not eaten in a year." Sam rolled her eyes and put down the papers she'd been sorting into envelopes. Joseph stepped back to allow her to pass, nearly bumping into Jethro as he moved.

"I'm not making you a whole meal right now."

"Oh, I know you will." Gibbs shook his head at the teasing they were both doing. At least he hoped they were teasing. "I want frybread, and corn pudding, and some of that garbage you used to make us." He snapped his fingers. "Oh, yeah! I remember what it's called! Shit on a shingle!"

"I am not making all of that!" Sam stopped with the sack of flour still in her hands. "Get out of my kitchen. Both of you." She sounded as frustrated as she looked. Gibbs started to back out, but Joseph motioned for him to wait.

"Not till we have tea." Joseph cocked an eyebrow. He leaned forward. "Mint tea."

"You're terrible." Both kept straight faces the entire time, and Gibbs wasn't sure if they were still joking, or if they were headed to a blow up. Joseph was the first to crack, his face breaking into a bright smile.

"You wouldn't have me any other way."

"Yes, I would. I'd have you obedient and quiet." Sally laughed, motioning for Gibbs to sit down.

"Come in and join the party, Gibbs."

"Sure. They always like this?"

"Only when they're awake." Sally reached up and tweaked Joseph's cheek.

"Hey! No touchy!" The handsome young man held up his hands, pretending to be affronted.

"No touchy? No touchy?" Sally advanced, poking and tickling until Joseph was nearly cowering in the corner. "You really think you can tell me no touchy?" She hit a spot, and he shrieked, making Gibbs finally laugh.

"Joey, you knock that bowl off the counter, and I swear, I'll…" Sam stopped speaking as he turned and caught the bowl just before it crashed to the floor.

"Can't skin me alive yet." He did a little dance. "So, An' Sam, I see you see the benefit of leasing out the animals?" On a dime, the conversation turned serious.

Gibbs sipped his tea while listening to his three companions discuss the ins and outs of emptying the farm of livestock. He was surprised to hear that most of the animals would be split between only five farms. The first few farms Joseph called had jumped at the chance to get animals for a year.

"I don't want my does bred to those monsters they've got over there! They're boxy, posty, and their ears are short."

"But, they'll take good care of them, they'll be out of harms' way, and you won't be stuck with the offspring." Joseph grinned. "It's a win-win. They get bloodlines they want, you get your goats back in a year, and I get to brag about how smart I am."

"What a smart ass you are, you mean." The young man stuffed his mouth full of frybread, nodding as he grinned around his puffed cheeks.

########

That night, once everyone had returned to their homes, Gibbs stood outside watching the sun go down. Joseph and Sam were doing the milking and other chores. He'd been talking with Tim and had everything set with SecNav to investigate the cold case started years ago with vandalism that had never been solved. It had started when Ellis was still alive, and while they couldn't investigate the current activities, they could start a file showing a trend of uninvestigated violence which could be proven to be hate crimes.

Abby was reviewing the small bit of information there was in the case files. It took her all of an hour. She sent the information over to the forensics lab at the FBI, and sat back, waiting for her evening phone call. She liked having Gibbs and Sam together in one place. It would be better to have them close, but they were fun to talk to together.

Tim had more than enough to show the financial records of several elected officials increasing over the years, keeping pace with the rise in drug activity. It was more than convincing when coupled with the number of overdoses treated at the emergency room compared to the number of arrests.

Tony and Ziva were on their way back out with their FBI cohorts on the SecNav's orders. With Gibbs being present, they could say the case was an attack against a federal officer, or at least it would involve a federal officer, and SecNav had read the file he'd been handed by Tony. Ellis Walking Tall had been an exemplary Marine, and he was angered by what he saw to be discrimination.

Gibbs heard the phone ring, and he waited, wondering if it would be for him this time. A shout from the barn told him that it was, so he headed inside.

"Mr. Secretary." He smiled as he greeted the politician. "Thanks for calling me back."

"Of course. What can I do for my new director? Or at least, I hope that's what you called me for."

"One of the things, sir." The men spoke for nearly two hours regarding the transfer of Vance to Gibbs, and how Vance's removal would be handled. Gibbs was still not completely comfortable with removing Leon entirely, but could understand the need to replace the current power structure.

When Sam and Joseph came in from the barn, he kept talking, not caring if they heard what he had to say. When a dish clattered to the floor, he asked his boss to hold on a moment.

"What are you two doing?" Two innocent faces met his, their calm eyes in complete contrast to the splattered mix on the floor. He sighed and went back to discussing why Tony had to replace him as the MCRT leader, and not the new guy from Rota.

##############

"So what was it like, Tony?"

"What was what like?"  
>"Staying at the farm in the snow storm."<p>

"It's unlike anything you've ever experienced before."

"I doubt that." Tony grinned at her.

"Imagine, a batch of that popcorn and some fudge still hot from the pan every night before bed." He rolled his head on the headrest as he looked over at her. "Hot chocolate made with milk and coco powder instead of water and a packet." He hummed in appreciation.

"Sounds like the kind of woman you'd be happy marrying." She pretended to be surprised when he disagreed. "Why not?"  
>"Because I'd die of a heart attack in 5 years or less."<p>

"Seriously. What was it like? Beyond the food."

"Boring. Fascinating. Like stepping back in time, complete with the freaky tune from the Twilight Zone."

################

Gibbs sat at the table, jotting down a few notes as he wrapped up his conversation with McGee. Joseph leaned over and squinted at the man's notes, trying to make it out.

"Director, huh?" The words were out of his mouth before Gibbs had even gotten the phone back on its cradle.

"Don't be rude, Joseph."

"Don't be rude? I'm not being rude. I'm being curious." He reached out and grabbed another piece of frybread. "So what are you Director of?"

"What happened to that quiet, studious kid from this morning?"

"I scalped him." The straight face as he said it proved to be Sam's undoing. Joseph's "Now talk," was barely heard above her laughter.

"You must have gotten some answers today." Sam spoke as she started to clear the dishes from the table. Joseph nodded.

"I did." He became quiet for a moment. "I saw a lot, and I feel better for it."

"Anything you want to share?" Sam knew messages were often personal, but could be shared. "Anything I should know?" Her nephew stood and kissed her cheek.

"You'll be more beautiful when you're old than you are now." Sam rolled her eyes.

"No, really. What did you see?"

"Will it make you feel better?"

"Can I do anything?" Joseph thought for a moment before nodding. He shared what he saw earlier that day, how he saw the farm for sale, and his aunt living in a new, strange place. It was busy, and she didn't like it, but it didn't last long. He told about him seeing her when her hair was gray and his children played in the barn with her just like he did when he was little.

"Children, huh?" The young man fairly blushed. Sam let him get away without responding. A moment passed, and Joseph spoke up.

"You had some power going on there." He nudged Gibbs' arm. "Can I ask what you saw?" Gibbs thought for a moment before he shook his head.

"Not sure I know how to." He started a few times before shaking his head and walking out. How on earth could he explain what he'd seen and felt? It was too far beyond his realm of experiences, and he had no idea of how to start. And it was too confusing and yet precious to mess up.

"Gibbs?" Joseph stood and started to follow.

"Give him a minute. It must have been something big." The young man nodded, his eyes serious.

"It was." He followed his new friend out into the twilight.

He found Gibbs sitting on a stump in the yard. He stood behind the older man, wondering exactly what he should say. He wished he had his uncle's gift for words. Perhaps that was a good place to start.

"My uncle always knew the right words." He paused. "It didn't matter if we were scared after a storm, or if my father had been drinking. A card on the first day of school reassured us of our places in life and in his heart." He stopped speaking, waiting for Gibbs to jump in. He didn't. "Something tells me he had something to say to you." To his surprise, Gibbs flinched. "What was it?"

"Was all of that in my mind?" He turned and looked to the young man before him. "Did I make that all up in search of answers? Or did something really happen?"

"The spirit world is more real than the world you see around us. So if it happened in the spirit world, it happened." Joseph motioned for Gibbs to scoot over, and he sat beside the older man on the stump.

Silence reigned for several minutes, and just as Joseph was thinking of breaking it, Gibbs spoke.

"I saw your uncle today. Or, I guess he was what I imagine your uncle to be like." Joseph stayed silent, his breath hitching with the unwillingness to cry. "He showed me different ways to think of decisions, of how I was looking at things from a backwards view. Not everything, but some things."

"What kind of things?"

"Taking the job as Director." Joseph nodded. "And he talked about your aunt."

"What did he say?" The way he asked had Gibbs looking at him with narrowed eyes.

"What do you think he said?" Joseph met his gaze after a moment.

"I think my uncle knows you're here. And that you'll make choices to bring you together or to pull you apart." He sighed, wondering if he should share what he'd seen.

"What do you think I'll do?" He nudged Joseph's shoulder after a moment.

"I saw you." The deep bass voice flowed gently through the growing darkness. "When I saw her in the barn with my children. I know that it was you, in the same way I know the children were mine." Gibbs nodded. Joseph chuckled. "And I'm not telling her. You?"

"Nope." The men sat in a comfortable and friendly silence until Gibbs was beginning to ache. He flexed his fingers, only to get an amused chuckle from his friend.

"Did you really get lost?"

"I am never gonna live that down, am I?"  
>"Nope." Joseph patted Jethro's shoulder. "You're family now. We never forget." He paused a moment before saying what he needed to say. "I like you, Gibbs. You're a lot like him, and he was the best man I've ever known." Gibbs nodded, afraid to hear what would come next. "But, if you ever hurt her…"<p>

"You'll hunt me down."

"No. I won't have to hunt."

"Because I'll be by her."

"Yep, because you're a loyal bastard." With that, he left Gibbs alone with his thoughts.

"Everything ok?" Sam sat at the table sorting beans to start soaking.

"Yeah, he just had some problems with his first transcendental experience."

"Where you learn big words like that?" Sam tossed a bean at him.

"College." He shrugged. "You pay for it. Gotta be learnin me sump'tin."

"Oh, shush."

When Gibbs came in later, he glanced in to where Sam was making up the standard floor pallet.

"I'll take that tonight."

"No. I beat ya to it." Joseph walked past and set his overnight bag down by the chair. He kissed his aunt goodnight and settled in, falling to sleep almost immediately. Sam sat on the couch watching him sleep for several minutes before rising and walking to the door and turning off the living room light.

"He's a good kid." Gibbs stood behind Sam, his hands tucked carefully into his pockets.

"He is." Sam cocked her head to the side as her "little boy" shifted and started to snore. "I'm glad he's here, but I'm worried, too."

"He'll be fine." She nodded, wanting to believe her friend.

"I just don't want to see him hurt. He's got so much potential."

"I'll watch out for him." He patted her shoulder softly. His lips settled next to her ear for a moment before giving her a kiss like he'd given Abby hundreds of times. "Good night, Sam."

"Night, Jethro."

When she left the doorway, she found comfort in the same rhythm she'd shared with Gibbs the night before in getting ready for bed. They smiled to one another and stepped into their separate rooms, joining Joseph in sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to my amazing beta, Headbanger Rockstar! LOVE YOU! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: Still AU and all of that jazz.

##############################

Gibbs woke to the sound of quiet laughter. He lay in bed for a few minutes, relishing the unusual wake-up. When he smelled the smoke from the stove door opening to add more wood for cooking breakfast, he decided it was time to get up.

"Morning." He stood in the doorway to his room with his hair still a mess and his shirt slightly riding up in the back.

"You look like you slept well." He nodded and headed to the bathroom.

"Coffee, An' Sam." Joseph whistled. "He's like Morning of the Waking Dead."

"Behave yourself."

"I am behaving. Just not nicely." Gibbs chuckled as he listened to their banter.

"I can hear you."

"We know." Rang out from the kitchen, and the newly appointed Director grinned.

Two hours later, the good mood was gone as trucks were pulling in and animals were being loaded. Arguments over which animals had been spoken for, how many had been agreed upon, and prices broke out. Gibbs joined in more than once, coming to the defense of his friends.

Joseph had once again transformed, becoming the hardened, fierce man he needed to be to help his aunt. Gone were the easy smiles Gibbs had seen, the jokes, and the laughter. In his place stood the same young man that had made Gibbs himself feel inferior only the day before.

The change was something to behold. This fierce young man was a force to be reckoned with. He didn't budge to any of the demands from buyers, never looked to his aunt for reassurance that he was correct in his judgments, or wavered in the prices he would accept.

Gibbs watched as Sam struggled with letting the animals go, hugging them and giving last goodies with promises of seeing them in a year. The woman kept moving, refusing to stop even when he ordered her to do so. The desperation behind her eyes surprised him, and he decided he'd not slow her pace again.

Gibbs spent the day bouncing back and forth between watching his friends work and talking on the phone with various alphabets and their directors. Tony called to let him know they'd landed, and the younger agent teased Gibbs about answering his new home phone. Gibbs growled at him, hanging up after telling him to drive carefully.

By the time Sam would have normally been doing chores, only fifteen goats and Jag remained. Even the chickens had gone, Joseph selling them to a man from Montana who had heard of a sale from one of the men driving in when he'd stopped for gas. The man had purchased twenty of the babies Joseph was still trying to sort out, ending the question of what to do with them in the sale of the chickens.

Sam milked quickly the four does quickly, Joseph fed the babies and doled out the hay, and the three were in the house letting go of the tension of the day by the time Tony and Ziva pulled up. While Ziva was ready to knock, Tony opened the door and strolled in.

"Hi, Honey! I'm home!" Sam smiled weakly from where she sat, trying hard to not cry.

"What happened?" Joseph came and stood in the door, staring at the newcomers. He knew two more were coming, and that they were friends with Gibbs and his An' Sam, but the fights of the day were too fresh in his mind to just let go.

"Been a long day." This answer came from Gibbs, signaling with his hand that anything else was not going to be permitted.

"Ok." Tony came in and hugged Sam. He accepted the head-slap from Gibbs for being late without batting an eye, and then turned to Joseph.

The two shook hands, the younger man relaxing as he realized his aunt really meant it when she said she enjoyed the tall Italian. He knew from experience that she could enjoy anyone for short periods of time. But enjoying them in her house could be altogether different. He was glad his Sam would be surrounded by friends tonight.

The evening passed with easy conversation and careful avoidance of anything that would start Sam to crying, which seemed to be nearly everything. Dinner wasn't one of Sam's best meals, as Joseph finally pushed his aunt out of the way and finished it.

Ziva swallowed hard and looked down at the meal before her. Fried potatoes, soup beans, eggs, corn bread, and milk. With a quirk of her eyebrow, she realized that Tony's diet wasn't necessarily that bad after all.

The NCIS agents watched with amused horror as Sam and Joseph mashed beans on their plates, dumping spoons of home-made green tomato relish over the mess. Next went on fried potatoes, and the whole mess was speared along with a bit of egg.

"Hm." Joseph closed his eyes, sighing as he chewed. "Comfort food." Sam smirked.

"I can feel my arteries hardening already."

"If you know it is bad for you, why do you eat it?" Joseph looked up, his eyes wide. Gibbs swallowed quickly, not knowing if having coffee in his mouth would be safe or not.

"Because the Creator made it, and it's delicious, and we have to die from something." Sam groaned as she took another bite, her rolled eyes being enough.

##############

"Tony! You get the first watch. I'll relieve you in a couple of hours."

"Yes, Boss." Tony walked outside, taking in the sights around him. He'd looked out the window before when it was darkening, but it was different out of doors. The silence added a new dimension to the depths he sensed around him. His mind raced to a movie he'd seen once and a comment from the Duke about the beauty and silence that made up life on the prairie. He grinned as he finally got it.

Gibbs gave directions to the remaining people inside. He wanted everyone to use the buddy system, and unless Sam and Joseph were with one of the agents, they were not to be out alone after dark.

Joseph rolled his eyes for effect, but was glad to see the silver-haired man was taking his aunt's safety seriously. They chatted aimlessly for several more minutes before Sam admitted to being tired and just ready to say goodbye to a horrible day.

She got the blankets out for Joseph, and her nephew took them from her.

"Go to bed, An' Sam. We got it." She nodded, and with a kiss to her cheek, she shut herself into her room. Gibbs patted the younger man's shoulder, communicating his willingness to listen if he needed to in that strange way only men understand. He got a nod and a pat to his hand as Joseph went to the living room and set about making two pallets on the floor.

Ziva snored in the bed as the two unlikely friends settled down on the living room floor. Gibbs lay awake long after Joseph had settled into a restless sleep, thinking back on the day. His mind strayed to his experience in the lodge. With questions and answers bobbing about in his mind like fishing floats, he joined his friends in sleep.

Tony sat in the lean-to off to the side of the barn and waited. For what, he didn't know. But he was aware of everything. It was amazing how much he could hear. So it was no surprise to him when he heard the footfalls of someone trying to be quiet. Someone who needed some serious lessons in sneaking.

He waited, simply watching the people come. There were two of them, both of them carrying backpacks. To jump to soon would be wasting an easy catch.

_Sam drove slowly, her sister-in-law and her family following her in their car. Her husband's parents were another car length back with a nice young man who had come simply to do whatever he could for his friends in this time of loss. _

_She saw something was wrong as she pulled up, but couldn't see exactly what the problem was. And then she'd seen the open gates and the missing sections. The goats had been around the back, and when they heard their Mama's car, came running from around the side of the barn, all of them in states of terror._

In her sleep, Sam rolled over, not realizing that she was repeating her plea for it to not be happening. Joseph woke, hearing her, but stayed where he was. Gibbs was just waking, and if he moved, he would bother the older man.

"S' wrong?" Gibbs sat up, rubbing his hand across his face as Joseph stood, walking slowly toward his aunt's room, wondering if he should wake her up. A scream pierced the darkness, and he bolted, flinging her door open as he rushed to her side.

Gibbs watched the young man reach out and shake Sam, his body staying out of reach of the fist that suddenly flew. He spoke quickly in the same lilting tongue that Gibbs was wishing he knew. Her eyes flew open wide as she sat up, still shaking. Ziva stood at his side, only to have him wave her back.

A shout from outside had Gibbs and Ziva running for Tony. They found him by the barn, sitting on one angry teen as he had another in a full-nelson hold.

"Busy night, Boss." Tony spoke between gritted teeth.

"Yeah." He reached out and picked the one boy up, cuffing him as Tony secured the other. "Makes you wonder what they're up to."

"Or were up to." Tony cracked his neck. "Sorry, Boss, they got away with some of it."

"Why, DiNozzo?"

"Because two kids with spray cans of paint doesn't look too bad, but two kids marking a wall in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere is evidence."

"Good work, DiNozzo."

##########

With grumbling reluctance, the local police finally came. They wanted to keep the evidence in their own storage lockers, but Gibbs actually laughed in their faces. When the sheriff threatened to call the FBI, Gibbs offered to call the agency's director.

The sallow-faced man finally left after trying to bully Joseph into admitting he'd paid the two teenagers to come out. Gibbs had stormed into the living room and nearly leveled the man.

"Get out of this house!" He left, griping about formal complaints and abuses of power as he went. It wasn't until Ziva spoke that he shut up and drove away.

"I could shoot him, Gibbs." She never cracked a smile. "I do have diplomatic immunity."

"Nah. Too much paperwork." The ugly little man's face had paled further, and he'd driven off the farm as quickly as his rebuilt engine would allow.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: Don't own it

Note: Special thanks to my beta, Headbanger Rockstar! LOVE YOU! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: I've got a couple of last names in this story, and if this happens to be anyone's name, I'm sorry! I tried to be as unusual as possible! One of the reasons I don't usually use last names in stories. Lol SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! about the episode tonight!

############

Phyllis raced about, getting more coffee and specials to the tables. She'd heard the sirens last night, and knew it would result in more business, but this was beyond what her gossiping, prattling mind could imagine. It was a motor mouth's dream.

Around her flew theories and conjectures that included everything from a stubbed toe combined with gout to attempted murder and rape. It was more delicious than the food. Her favorites, that she was just sure to her bones about being right, were that the man who had gone out to Sam's farm was her lover. And that young man named Joseph was out to surprise his "aunt". She heard from her friend, over across state lines, that he'd stopped in for gas and had been in a hurry. That could only mean one thing. That bitch Sam was up to her tricks again. Worthless floosy.

While the café stayed busy, the sheriff was hunkering down for the storm that was sure to blow. Already, the young men were in the custody of the FBI, and that made the man nervous. How was he to have known that the man visiting Sam was a fed? His eyes narrowed as he realized he'd been had. The new guy. Robert.

#############

Robert left his house, fully intending on going to work. He started driving down the road, not paying any attention to the little Geo Metro that raced along behind him. The neighbor kid was always working on some car or the other, and this was probably just another of his weekend projects.

It wasn't until he was fighting to stay on the road as he radioed for help that he realized where the shot had come from. Dispatch turned a deaf ear to his calls, simply waiting until he didn't call in again. The little Metro zipped down the road, not even stopping.

Robert lay gasping his last in a field surrounded by wheat. He'd heard death was painful, and had always imagined it to be. He wondered if maybe the lack of pain meant he'd live. For indeed, he felt no pain, only a sleepiness that niggled at his mind to just relax. With a sigh as he fell asleep, he passed from this life to the next.

##############

"An' Sam?" Joseph stood in the door to his aunt's room.

"Yeah?" Sam had her dresser emptied and was packing clothes furiously.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

"Oh, Little One." She pulled him to her and Gibbs stepped from the kitchen, letting the two have their time. He couldn't imagine what they were going through. He felt no shame in listening to the words pass back and forth between them.

Pauses which he would have assumed meant the end of the conversation seemed to be time for them to think of how to finish their thoughts. Some words were clear and loud, others were seemingly swallowed, but it all flowed in a verbal dance that was beautiful to hear.

A truck pulled in, and he stepped outside, nodding to Ziva to bring the visitors to the house. The couple stepped from their truck, shocked as they took in the phrase "Die, Bitch" spray painted on the barn. It was incomplete, as Tony had tackled them before they finished, but the "Die Bit" was plain in its message.

"Come on, folks. Not a side show." Tony had no patience left. "Up to the house." He herded them like the goats they were there to lease.

"What happened?" Vicki blew through the door, her face ashen. "Is this why you're leasing the girls out?" At Sam's nod, Rick sat down with his check book. His eyes flashed with anger.

"Damn idiots." He started to fill out the check, looking over at the totals Joseph showed him. "How many babies do you have left?"

"Just eleven." Rick nodded, his wheels turning. "Does, bucks, both?"

"Six does, the rest bucks, and all for final sale." Joseph was once again handling the business, as his aunt was barely keeping her tears back.

"Eleven, at…" He sat down and started to do some math, figuring what he'd pay. Joseph knew the man understood he was getting leftovers from the babies, and the only reason he had the does was because he'd chosen them before. He pushed his paper over to Joseph, who nodded, not showing his gratitude or relief.

"It's all I can do right now, sorry." He stood and paced. "I heard from Thomas Red Bow, who heard from Alex Smith, who heard from your father," here he nodded to Joseph, "that there was trouble."

"What did my father say?" Joseph seemed to shrink.

"His usual garbage. That it was about time someone put her in her place."

"Rick! It's not his fault that his dad is a…"

"I know. Didn't say it was." Rick took a moment to gather his words. "But he needs to know that he's gonna try to say he's helping her, and you can't go back to school because of it. He's trying to look like a big man right now."

"What?" Sam looked over to her nephew. "He can't even keep the lights on! Pay for my school? Does he think people are going to believe that? Does he think people…" Sam stood.

"Joseph! Stop!" He wheeled, his chest heaving with anger.

"NO! I've stopped all my life! I've let him talk bad about you to keep the peace, even when I knew we had dinner only because you and Uncle Ellis sent money. I let him talk bad when he lost his job and said that it was your fault we couldn't live here all the time. I knew it wasn't because you refused to hire him, but because he couldn't cross state lines on probation. I LET HIM! NO MORE!"

"JOSEPH!" Sam's voice cracked out like lightening. "No one who knows your father will believe him. They'll know he doesn't work. That he drinks. That he talks foolish."

"It doesn't make it right." Tears of shame and anger tracked down his cheeks. "He…"

"He is ashamed of himself, Joseph. And that is his fault, not yours."

"But it's not right." Gibbs watched as Sam calmed the young man.

"No, it's not right, but will it cause more trouble to set it right or to confront him."

"But I'm so angry." His fist pounded on the counter, barely missing a mug.

"Anger helps us to act. But do not act in anger. You know that." Joseph nodded, walking outside.

Gibbs started to follow, but Sam shook her head. He didn't like it, but when he heard the thwack of wood being split, he knew what she'd meant. Let him go now, and he'll be able to talk later.

############

Once the tension had settled in the small house, Rick cleared his throat again. Gibbs nearly growled at the man. Sam just met his gaze.

"If it takes you longer to get things settled, I want to take your goats." He held out his hands. "Not to keep, but I want to offer you a barn and a year of keeping them rent free if you need a second year to get yourself in order."

"Why?"

"This isn't by your own doing, Sam. This is bullshit. It's vicious, and we can't do anything about it but this. If Joey'd called us first, we'd have taken more."

"Well, could you take Jag up? I want Joseph to have him." She sighed. "I just hope his father doesn't sell him like Brickle."

"I'll see if Joey's interested in trading boarding for a little work."

"He's in school." Sam shrugged. "He'll not be around much."

"Yeah. About school. How's he doing?"

"Straight A's." The conversation was back on safe ground, and Gibbs had a deeper glimpse into Sam's life.

By the time they were ready to go and load animals, Gibbs heard about kids from 4-H and FFA. He heard how they were doing with projects and animals, and to his amusement, one of them had sent her a hand-drawn picture of her with the goat Sam had donated the year before to their state's fair.

Joseph helped load the goats with slow steps. The shame he felt from his father's words weighed heavily on him, and while he knew none of them blamed him, he blamed himself. If he'd gotten here sooner, or hadn't spent so much of his break playing, he'd have been here.

He closed the last of the goats in, and turned, hoping to not be asked to get Jag into the trailer. The massive beast was his friend, and had been for years. He'd thought to offer to buy him, but he didn't have anywhere to keep him, and his aunt would be needing the cash.

Relief mixed with disappointment filled him as he watched Tony lead the large animal from the barn. The NCIS agent was obviously uncomfortable, yet was doing his best to be helpful. Gibbs had a look on his face that spoke of barely concealed laughter. Ziva looked disgusted at his inability to make the massive horse walk straight, and Sam, for some reason, looked completely content. Like she knew some great secret.

Jag got just to the door when he stopped, planting his feet. Tony clucked his tongue. Jag twitched his ears. Tony tugged the lead. Jag tugged back. No one else moved. If Tony wanted help, he'd ask. This wasn't trouble, this was a horse showing who was boss.

Tony took a step forward, and Jag took one back.

"Oh, come on." Tony lifted his hand with the universal sign for disgust, and Jag smiled deep inside where a human can't see.

Pure pride in life and a last look around the farm led Tony through a patch of mud as he tried vainly to get Jag to stop.

"Woah!" "Hey! You stop for everyone else!" "Hey! These shoes are expensive!" "Augh!" Had Jag ever moved faster than a plodding walk, someone would have stepped in. Instead, they all laughed as Jag got Tony to step in the fun stuff.

As if sensing his job was done, Jag stopped walking and nickered. He tossed his head, his mane shaking. Sam walked up to him and cuffed him gently.

"Bad horse." Jag nodded before rubbing his head on her chest. "Yeah, I'll miss you, too." She turned to look to her nephew, but he was gone.

############

Amos Middleton drove past his southern field, stopping to find out what the attraction was. Something had died, as there were carrion birds and a fox all at one place. He'd not heard of any missing calves, but if one had gotten out, he'd need to know so he could watch for coyotes and wolves who had gotten a taste in the next few days.

Bile rose in his throat as he realized he wasn't looking at a calf. That was a man, and if the tracks told a true story, his car was long gone. He looked down and saw a wallet and checked it. He grimaced and tossed it back down. It wouldn't do any good to call the police beyond saying he'd found someone. He was suddenly glad he'd stayed in town all day talking. He couldn't be blamed. Sighing, he walked to his truck, knowing that the sparsely populated county had one more unsolved murder. He couldn't figure out why people tried to fight it anymore. Something like this happened every time somebody rocked the damn boat.

He'd heard all of the mess in town, and had been around long enough to know to stay out of it. He'd watched family after family move away until what was left was either hard working farmers or the dregs of society too lazy and drug addicted to care. The rumors about that Walking Tall woman made him sick. More than once she had shown up when his wife was sick, bringing a meal or making sure the house was clean.

When she'd passed, the woman had filled his freezer with ready-made meals he just had to reheat in the oven. Her husband had come home, and they'd come together until he got sick, and they couldn't make the trip. When he'd died, she got quieter than she was before, and he stopped going after a year to check on her. As he listened to the rumors, he decided he'd made a mistake. Good people need friends, and he had pushed her away.

He'd stuck up for her once and had spent the weekend in jail for it. He'd supposedly assaulted an officer, which was odd, considering he'd had a cup of coffee, told people she'd had nothing to do with it, and had gone back home. But he'd learned his lesson and had stayed out of things after that.

If she was bad people, then the world needed more criminals like her in his way of thinking. He got back into his car and started heading to her farm. If this man was out here, then there was a good chance he'd find her dead, too, but she was good people. She would deserve to be found and buried right.


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar for being my awesome and amazing beta! LOVE YOU! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

###################

Gibbs asked Sam to go to the house. He wanted a moment with Joseph. A few things needed to be said, and just like Tony needed to hear them on occasion, it was time for Joseph to listen.

He found the younger man up in his uncle's room, curled into the corner where his bed had stood. Like a petulant child, he ducked his head.

"You ok?" Joseph nodded. Gibbs sat next to him, simply waiting. Just like with Tony, silence said more than words when things got rough. And things didn't get rougher than today.

Jethro's knees had been frozen for a long time before Joseph spoke. When he did, his voice was quiet and carried in the empty barn. Gibbs just listened, not moving.

"My dad used to work hard before he lost his job. He was fun, and he smiled and laughed." He sighed. "This is stupid."

"No, not if you need to say it." They sat for a while longer.

"I used to wish when I was a kid that I was born to them. Uncle Ellis and An' Sam, I mean. They never hit us, at least nothing beyond a spanking if I needed it."

"That happen often?"

"No." Joseph shook his head. "He spanked me once, and she never did." They were quiet once again. "I was so horrified that I made them upset that I never wanted to do it again. My parents yell, but my aunt and uncle never lifted their voices. But the looks of disappointment were worse."

"Yeah, they usually are."

"Why do you hit Tony's head?" Gibbs sighed, wondering how to best explain it.

"He gets talking and not paying attention. At first, I was getting him to stop goofing off. Then I realized he almost needs the contact." Gibbs shrugged. "Can't really hug him." Joseph scoffed.

"Yeah, don't think he'd take kindly to that."

"Nope." They sat in silence once again.

"I screwed up, Gibbs."

"How?"

"How? I just left. I know she's having a hard time down there. She's got it harder than me, I'm just showing up to help. This is her life, and I run up here like a spoiled little kid."

"You didn't leave. You're still here."

"You know what I meant."

"No, I don't." Joseph groaned and glared at the older man.

"You know what I mean." Gibbs shrugged in response. "Ok, so what are you wanting to say?" Joseph sounded resigned to listening to some verbal attack.

"Just want you to think on something." He waited until he felt the tension go out of his friends' body. "You came. Would your father have come?"

"No, but…"

"No buts. Simple yes and no answers. Deal?" Joseph nodded. "Good. So you came, and he wouldn't have. How about helping? You helped a lot. Did he?"

"No." Joseph switched positions, stretching his legs out.

"Ok, those are two pretty major things. I know she wouldn't have been able to do all of this in this short of a time without you."

"Only because I forced her into it."

"Could she have said no?"

"Yeah." His voice was quiet as the truth began to sink in.

"Keep those things in mind and remember that you are not your father. You may share, hell, I dunno, that genetic stuff that Abby plays with."

"DNA?"

"Yeah, that." Gibbs smirked and bumped into Joseph's shoulder. "Tony and his dad are a lot like you and your dad. His dad is all about sounding good, but has nothing to make him a good man. But Tony made choices and is a good man. He's nothing like his father."

"So what do I do? I'm so angry with him."

"Well, look at things like this. What if you confront him. What happens?"

"He won't let my mom and sisters talk to her anymore."

"And what happens then?" He felt the shudder, even though Joseph tried to stop it. "What happens?"

"They'll not get new clothes at the start of the year, and they'll not have hot lunches every day. I can't afford it, and I'll have to quit school. I can't afford it, so An' Sam pays, and I pay her back when I work in the summer. I'm way in debt, but she never asks for a payment, and she'd still pay, but it's not fair any way I try it, I'm still behind, and I know she needs the cash. And Mom's job buys groceries and pays the bills, but they cut her hours again. So Mom's job won't pay for everything we need. And Dad…"

"Dad what, Joseph?"

"Dad gets mad if he can't get his cigarettes and beer. Doesn't matter if he should get a job or not. He just gets mad. He turned one down recently because it didn't pay enough. Pay is better than nothing. I don't understand, and then he gets mad."

"What happens when he gets mad?" Joseph stayed quiet. "You can answer if you want to, Joseph, but think about it. Is it worth the consequences to speak up?" They sat for a few moments before Joseph started to stand.

"I guess I have to decide if it's more important for me to keep quiet for my family's sake, or if I should speak up for the provider for my family."

"Yep. I think I know what I'd choose."

"Yeah?" Joseph shot him a look. Gibbs held out his hands, and his friend helped to pull him to his feet.

"Yep. I'd let your dad cook his own goose."

"I don't get it."

"Don't say a word. People who know him know. People who don't aren't worth your time."

"But if she can't stay with us because of all of the crap he's saying, what will she do?" Jethro smiled.

"Aren't you the one who told me yesterday that you knew I'd be making a lot of choices? Some that would bring your aunt and I closer, and some that may push us apart?"

"Yes." Joseph's cheeks colored. "I didn't mean to make it sound like I expected…"

"Hey. You expect nothing. Your aunt is her own person. However, for now, she's under my protection."

"Promise?"

"Promise." Joseph surprised him with a quick hug. "Good. Now, help me down that ladder."

"Hey, Boss!" Tony stood at the base of the ladder looking up.

"Di-No-zzo! What ya need?"

"For you to come and speak with a nice old man named Amos. He's got some interesting stuff to tell us." Tony grinned.

"Good stuff?"

"Only the best, Boss." Gibbs smirked and started down the ladder behind Joseph. To the younger man's credit, he kept a pace slow enough to let Gibbs come down slowly, and yet stayed close enough that if his friend cramped up, he'd be there to brace him.

Tony watched, debating on saying anything, when Gibbs knee gave out and Joseph rose two steps and braced the older man against the ladder. Within seconds, Tony was helping his boss get off the ladder.

"Not a word, DiNozzo."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Boss." He grinned at Joseph and started to sing. "We are climbing Jacob's…" His head flew forward with the force of Gibbs slap. Joseph laughed as he left the barn.

"He reminds me a lot of you, Tony."

"Loyal, brave, handsome?"

"No. Young, smart, doesn't always think things through, and wants to be a good man."

"Oh, well, thanks Boss."

"Anytime, DiNozzo. Anytime."

####################

"So, how can we help you?" Gibbs sat down at the table and accepted the cup of coffee Sam handed him. The older man sitting across from him looked completely terrified.

"I wuz in town, an' all them folks is talkin', an', well, on my way home, I seen a bunch a critters. Birds, fox, all that." Gibbs nodded, letting the man know he was listening. "Well, I got outta my truck an checked, an there wuz a dead man. I'm not shur, bu I'm pretty certain tis that new man. Robert. The one from further out westway."

"Oh, the new deputy?" Amos nodded.

"Yep, him." Gibbs was glad Sam was there in case he needed a translator. The man was toothless, looked to be well over 70, and his mustache kept getting caught in his lips, slurring his words more. Were it not for the grime and smell, the man may have well been Santa Clause.

"Are you ok, Amos?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He blushed and looked up at Sam. "I seen him and thought bout you being out here all lone." His eyes filled as he reached out and took her hand. "I done wrong by not checkin on ya."

"Amos, they arrested you for sticking up for me, and I remember telling you to go away more than once."

"You done just lost yer man. Course you was upset. I said the same thing ta you many a time. Didn't stop you from comin ta me."

"No, but I'd have thought twice if I got arrested for it." She patted his hand. "Don't feel bad, Amos. You came today." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. Gibbs cleared his throat.

"So. I guess you've seen a lot around here."

Tony took notes while Amos talked, telling about everything he'd seen in the last several years. Some of it was unimportant, some of it was vital, but all of it was told with complete seriousness. The man had a wonderful knowledge of the area, who was having problems with their kids, and who had stopped trying to control their families at all. Gibbs smirked at the list of who the "real whores" were, trying hard to keep a straight face as Amos listed Phyllis first.

"Listen ta me." Amos finally stopped talking. "Somebody finally listens, an I go on like an old woman."

"Hey." Sam joked back. "I was gonna refill your coffee, mister."

"Ah, ya ain't gotta do that." The old man smiled at her. "Ya done made my day jus by bein fine."

"You're a sweet talker, Amos." Sam rose and started to work around the kitchen. "You staying for dinner?"

"Oh, you don't need an old man hanging around. You got a houseful." He stood, twisting his dirty hat in his hands, obviously not wanting to leave yet.

"Now you sit down." Sam put her hands on her hips. "I'll bet you've eaten nothing but eggs, bacon, and oatmeal for the last three years." Amos tossed up his hands and laughed.

"Damn, woman." He let his laugh flow, and Gibbs decided that yes, the man was Santa, even down to the shaking belly. "How you do that?" It was Sam's turn to laugh.

"I've cleaned your kitchen often enough in the past. I know what you can cook and what you can't." It was as if no time or hurt had passed between them. Amos joined them for dinner, and then at Gibbs insistence, he stayed all night after showing them to where Robert lay. A call to Tobias had the local ME out within the hour. The man swore, and with a look from one of the agents, agreed to testify.

"I don' wanna be a bother, Sam."

"You're not a bother, Amos. I'd not sleep if I was worried for you. Gives me something to do so I'm not sitting here stewing all night. So stop arguing and go get yourself ready for bed."

"You really think they'll hurt somebody else?" Gibbs listened for Sam's answer.

"Well, I know Gibbs and his friends are going to do everything they can to stop it. But until things are under control…" She shrugged.

"The bulls are in the cow shed." A nod was her answer.

###############################

Gibbs sat at the table with a cup of coffee. He had drawn out plans for his next project, and was in the process of deciding which wood he'd prefer to use when Sam's door opened.

"Can't sleep?" He whispered, careful to not wake the others. With no animals in the barn, he didn't worry about posting anyone outside.

"No." She poured herself some of the tasty brew and sat next to him, looking at his notebook. "What are you making? Looks like a dresser of some sort."

"Abby wants a new wardrobe, and she's not been able to find one she likes."

"Her tastes are a little out there." Gibbs smiled.

"Not as much as you may think. She's pretty traditional in many ways. And furniture, with the exception of coffins, is one of them."

"Coffins? Really?"

"Oh, yeah." Gibbs smirked and closed his book, sitting back and looking at Sam. He'd watched over the last two days as she'd gotten pale. Her eyes had bags under them, she'd broken out on her forehead where she'd been rubbing her hand across it almost constantly, and her lip was swollen where she'd bitten it during her nightmare.

"You're making me nervous." She glanced down at her cup, turning it in a slow circle for something to do with her hands.

"Why?"

"You're staring."

"I'm worried." She looked up, surprised by his answer. "How are you? And don't tell me fine."

"I'm ok." He cleared his throat and glared at her. "Fine. I'm angry, I feel like I've failed, I'm afraid of what's coming next, I'm worried about Sally and Aaron, I'm worried about the animals and how they're settling in to their new homes." She stood and paced in the small kitchen.

"I don't know what to do with myself." Tears began to run down her face. "This is the first time I've been without animals. I have all of this energy, and no way to work it off. I want to go do something, anything, and I can't. I'm afraid to take a walk, because of who or what may be out there." She motioned helplessly.

"I don't even know where I'll be going." She turned to Jethro, her eyes shadowed with pain. "If I go to my in-laws, I've got to deal with Joseph's dad, and I can't deal with him right now. He's so hateful, and he's going to dig and dig. And I can't…"

"Hey." Gibbs stood and gathered her close, letting her head rest on his chest. "Hey. It's ok."

"No, it's not." Her voice shook. "Nothing is ok. Everything is gone. Everything."

"For now." He spoke quietly, bending so his mouth was near her ear. "It's gone for now. But you'll have them back. I promise."

"You can't guarantee anything, Gibbs." He put his hand under her chin and lifted her face.

"I can't guarantee anything, you're right. But I can promise to do everything I can. Trust me, ok?" She nodded, seeking out the comfort of his heartbeat once again.

He leaned back against the counter, letting her lean against him. He rubbed up and down her back, whispering occasional reassurances as she cried. She quieted, and he asked her if she felt better. When he got no answer, he looked down and chuckled as he realized she'd fallen asleep leaning against him.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to my beta, Headbanger Rockstar! LOVE YOU! PTBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB!

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Gibbs walked a sleepy Sam to her bed. He'd roused her just enough to get her back into her room, and smiled as she snuggled down into her covers. He pulled them over her, and she'd gripped them tightly to her for a moment, sighing as she muttered something unintelligible.

He stood over her for a moment, pressing his hand to her hair before leaving. Joseph stood in the kitchen, simply watching. The men shared a nod before the younger headed to the bathroom. When he came out, Gibbs had another pot of coffee started.

Joseph sat down and sipped the brew Gibbs passed him.

"An' Sam couldn't sleep?"

"No. We talked until she could." Joseph nodded, his face still serious.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." With a pat to his young friends shoulder, their conversation ended.

Tony and Ziva woke next, followed by Amos, who offered to go out and start Sam's chores. When he was informed that the barns were empty, the old man's face crumbled.

"Damn this town, and damn myself for letting it go on." He walked outside, not trying to hide his tears. He was too old to play the strong silent type, having learned long ago that some things just needed to be shown. This was one of those things.

Joseph just watched him go. He didn't understand this entire area. He'd thought it was wonderful when he was a child. He'd been free to run and play all summer, his aunt and sometimes his uncle would make time for him that his parents never would. It was only when he started to drive and went into town himself that he realized the depravity surrounding what he considered to be paradise.

Tony watched their older guest through the window, letting the man have time to himself. Ziva had started to mix eggs for a quiche, only to discover she'd not know how to make it, so Gibbs took over. The delicious smells woke Sam, who came out, her eyes still hazy.

"Good morning." She just grunted in response and headed for the bathroom. She was wearing several layers, as if protecting herself from her environment. Gibbs let her walk past without saying a word.

The little group kept to themselves through breakfast, listening occasionally to Jethro's phone calls as he coordinated with the state police, the FBI, and NCIS. Tony and Ziva exchanged glances at the use of several acronyms that didn't need to be used, but were obviously there for the sake of their companions. Sam needed to be protected in any way they could.

She went walking through the house, packing and throwing things away. There wasn't much, and Joseph rescued some things that he was sure she'd want later. He packed all of the breeding records and started to put things into the barn with the vault.

When Gibbs finished his phone call, Joseph asked to have a turn, and when the older man passed him the phone, he called his grandfather. He filled the old man in on the happenings, and asked him to come with some men to move the vault and other papers to his grandparent's garage.

His mission accomplished, he let Sam know what was happening, and warned her that his father was coming along. She sighed and sank against the wall, letting the plaster support her for a moment.

When she walked out nearly thirty minutes later without a word, Gibbs followed. Joseph tried to stop him, but Gibbs wouldn't be deterred. He kept his distance, making sure he never invaded her space, but was close enough to keep her safe. When she entered the low lodge she had been preparing, he settled against a log and waited.

Sam lit a small fire, letting it get hot with little smoke. In the privacy of the lodge, she let her heart cry. She'd been unable to cry in front of the others, especially Joseph. He had been working so hard, and had been feeling so guilty for everything. She wished he could see he'd done more than he was required. More than she would have expected him to help with.

Gibbs heard her crying, and wished he could do something to help. Her tears didn't last long, when a song reached his ears. It wasn't a song he recognized, but it was another one of the beautiful mixes of sounds he'd already grown accustomed to. The lodge fell silent, and he waited.

_Sam wandered through a space she'd known since childhood. Her feet were silent as she padded through the tall buffalo grass. She was still slightly connected to her body, but as she relaxed further, she felt the thin connection break. Floating for a moment, she allowed her soul to rise slightly, feeling the energy and power surrounding her._

_She could sense another presence, but wanted some more time alone. She let her guide know, and felt when he sat and made himself comfortable. She released the pain and fear she had carried here with her into the wind, feeling the breeze pick up as it carried her negative emotions away._

_When she felt ready, she turned to her guide. _

_Ellis smiled and surrounded her with his arms, creating a cocoon of love, healing, and protection about her. She melted into him, soaking up the stability he offered. He began speaking, but not with his voice. She simply knew his words and thoughts. _

_Sam pulled back, sitting on the ground, inviting him to do the same. He'd already told her it was time to live. He spoke of new friends, and of finding somewhere new to live. Her mind heard him but wanted to argue when he said that his letters would cease to be her companions. That he wasn't upset, but glad that new people had come to her. She chuckled as he told her to guard her heart, but to love as she could. It was an "Ellis" thing to say._

"_I'm not ready to let you go." She raised her hand and stroked down his face. "I don't want to."_

"_Remember me, that is a good thing. But just as you must move your home and life, so you must move your heart and love."_

"_Something I should know?" Ellis smirked. _

"_No. But he will encourage you to date. So will his friends. They'll not understand your bond."_

"_Will I understand it?" _

"_It is yours. Will you?" She fell silent and let herself absorb all that he had said and shown her. Her mind pondered how she had closed herself off from the world. What she could do to rejoin her own life. She went through ideas and emotions, letting her heart feel everything. _

_She looked at her attachment to her goats, and the roll they played in her life. She felt fear as she imagined life without the farm and the livestock. Taking hold of the fear, she balled it up tightly, imagining it to be a dark ball of negativity which she held up to the sky, her eyes closed. Within moments, she felt it being pulled from her fingers as wings beat against her arms. _

_Sam would not watch the fear leave. It was gone, and to watch it leave was to wish it back. When she had absorbed and digested all that her first guide had given her, she opened herself to another. _

_With curiosity, she watched as a Monarch butterfly flew into her otherwise empty space. She followed it, wondering where it would lead her. She chuckled as she walked past a skunk who stood on his front feet, showing off his tail. When he was certain she'd noticed him, he walked away, happy that his job was done. A gray wolf padded into view, jogging beneath the butterfly. On she followed, feeling the subtle changes in weather that denoted the changing of seasons as they traveled. _

_She came to a small lake, and sat on a rock, just watching. The raccoon that had been her companion since childhood came and sat next to her, sharing the sights. She reached out and touched the turtle that poked its head up from the water. The significance was not lost on her, and giving herself more time to soak it in and think, she settled in, letting her soul rest._

Gibbs was getting worried. She'd been in there since just after seven, and it was nearing four. Relief flooded through him when the door opened and she emerged, her face showing a peace as if she'd spent the day being pampered. He guessed that in a way, she had.

Her hair was plastered to her head, her skin had a slight sheen of sweat, and her steps were shaky. He went and offered his arm, which she accepted. When they reached the house, she drank the cool mint tea Joseph had gotten ready long before.

"Want more?"

"Please." She held out her cup, smirking as he poured himself some as well. "You and your mint."

"What?" He shrugged. "It's the most refreshing. Especially when I'm here and can make it from the fresh stuff."

"I was wondering why he wanted only mint." Jethro smirked as he shook his head to Joseph's offer for some. "Didn't want to ask, but I wondered if there was some significance."

"No." Sam smiled. "He's a taste bud hedonist."

"Ah!" Joseph raised his hands, nearly spilling his glass. "You used a two dollar word!"

"That is not a two dollar word. That's a four-bit." Joseph grinned and shrugged. At the confused look from Gibbs, she shook her head. "Family thing. Don't mind us."

#####################

Miles away, arrests were taking place in a joint effort. Tony had passed messages to Gibbs, who had claimed vacation and refused to move from his spot as he watched over Sam. Another call came in, and Gibbs told Tony to guard the farm while he and Ziva took off for town.

Tobias Fornell waited in the sheriff's office where the entire police force and nearly every elected official was being held.

"Congratulations, Gibbs." The balding FBI agent growled. "You've just tanked middle America."

"Piss poor example of middle America, Fornell. I doubt I'd call this disaster a good example."

"No, but it's one for the books."

"I'll give it that." The two talked for a bit, getting caught up, comparing notes, and making sure everything was covered. Once that was done, Gibbs and Ziva headed back to the farm.

"Well, this will be interesting. The entire town is now without government."

"It was before, Ziva."

################

"So everyone is locked up?" Sam was excited. "Does this mean I can stay? Will it be safe…" Gibbs held up his hands.

"We got the big players, Sam. The ones we could link to murders, to the ones we know for sure were involved with the drug running. There's others that we don't have enough on yet."

"So, I have to move. Even though you've done so much."

"Yeah. Maybe you can come back, but it's not safe. So, let's finish getting you packed, and we'll get you moved." She closed her eyes and nodded.

"I'll be ready to go by tomorrow night."

Her mind reeled. Less than a week ago, she'd been ready to buy two tons of grain, and today her barns were empty. A week ago, she'd been planning on asking her nephew to spend all summer with her to get some extra work done, and that would allow him to "repay" his school bill. She closed her eyes, releasing the panic that tried to build, going to the vision she had received this morning to ground herself once again.

She spent the evening in a whir of busyness, finishing packing and sorting, deciding what was important, and what wasn't. She pulled out an old suitcase and put all of her clothes in as they came from the dryer. Jethro and Tony carried boxes out to the barn, getting everything into the one spot so the truck could be loaded quickly and easily.

Darkness fell and dinner was eaten. Amos returned home after deciding there wasn't anything else he could do, and that if anyone wanted to cause him trouble, he'd just take it as it came. Gibbs wasn't happy with his decision, and wondered if it didn't have something to do with the arrival of her in-laws.

Joseph was getting more nervous, fidgety and finally escaped with the abalone shell and sage from the living room. He walked no farther than around the corner of the house where he bathed himself in the calming smoke as he prayed. He could feel his spirit find its center once again, and he was ready for the fight to come.

He'd decided that if his father got out of control or began to level unfair accusations at his aunt, he would speak up. Not enough to cost his family, but enough to call his father on his garbage. As nervous as he was, he was also excited. It would feel nice to finally speak the words his mind had often provided.

When the last box was packed and all that remained were the bedding for the night and the few pans needed for making dinner, Sam began to cook. Already knowing she would need to keep busy, Gibbs pulled everyone else from the kitchen, letting her work uninhibited.

A truck came down the drive, a long enclosed trailer pulled behind it. In the cab sat two men, one older, one younger. Both wore expressions similar to the hardened young man who watched the truck pull in.

The truck parked, shutting down as the diesel engine shuddered to a stop. Both doors opened, and Joseph stepped forward, hugging the older of the men. The man pulled back and spoke softly with the same bass voice which carried through the dusky air. The words weren't for anyone's ears but his grandson's, but the look of pride and relief was unmistakable. Gibbs liked the old man already. But the shorter surly one that stared with obvious contempt was already on his bad side. And today, that was a bad place to be.


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to my amazing beta, Headbanger Rockstar! LOVE YOU! PTBBBBBBBBBBBBBB!

Note: Special thanks to stareagle for reminding me that the media would have a field day with this! Thanks, stareagle! Once again, all names are made up, and if I happen to use someone's name, you have my sincere apologies!

############################

Carol Jordan rubbed her hands together with glee. She had just started at ZNN a few months ago, and now she was being sent in the field to a little town in big trouble. The big names couldn't go, as they didn't go places without Four Star Hotels. However, for her, this was the perfect start. This could be the story that gets her a place in the hearts and lives of the couch-sitting news-watching public.

She was packed, her camera crew was set, and she had everything she needed to start her career properly. All she needed was an interview, and if the stories of small towns were true, she'd have no problems with finding a good contact.

The flight in was short, the drive was longer, in fact, but the time allowed her to get several foundation shots along the way, showing the desolation of the area she would be reporting from. This was getting better by the mile. When they rolled into the once sleepy town, the café was buzzing with business.

They set up a base in the only hotel, a dingy, mostly unused building that smelled musty. Carol could practically smell history. History and stories and news hung in the air along with mystery and distrust. Her heart throbbed with anticipation.

The only restaurant in town was the tiny café, so the entire crew headed over for dinner. The building fell silent. Newcomers were suspicious. And after everything that had happened, they were considered to be nearly dangerous.

Deciding she may as well get the unpleasant part of her visit over with, she introduced herself. People looked at one another, unwilling to speak at first. Phyllis came over and offered a table in the corner with two seats left on the end.

"If people want to talk, Honey, they'll come over." She winked as she said it, mouthing the words that she'd be back. Carol smiled, nodding her appreciation. She made a stage-whispered comment to one of the camera men about how the place reminded her of the café in her own hometown, and people started to buzz with confidential conversations. As if reaching a consensus, one of the women finally rose and approached, followed quickly by two others.

Within minutes, Carol was surrounded by people who wanted to tell their story off the record. She heard story after story about a woman who made husbands cheat and got children to turn to drugs. The entire town spoke of a beloved sheriff who had only tried to help her over the years being framed for everything because she'd managed to snag the right man at the right time. And a federal man couldn't afford to have his lover smeared through the mud, as it would make his own career vulnerable.

She tried to get an interview with the local police, but was informed that they couldn't answer any questions. So she tried to question one of the FBI agents, which resulted in her being told to leave the office and wait along with everyone else. She'd already been refused an interview, and now it was time to let the authorities do their jobs.

Feeling the need for vindication after being rebuked, she stepped outside and spoke into the camera about government cover-ups, drugs being hidden on farms, prostitution rings being protected, and crooked politicians who did anything to protect their mistakes.

She headed back to the hotel and started interviews once more, agreeing with the people that something was going on. After all, the government owed people explanations. Every officer should be ready to speak, and no officials should refuse to speak to the press at a time like this.

The fact that people were feeding her lies and blaming their own crimes on one woman never crossed the young reporters mind. She got the address of the woman who was guilty in the eyes of the public, and she started off to the farm, her cameraman, Bill, as full of righteous indignation as she.

Sally and Aaron arrived at the café for dinner, their day of calving leaving them too tired to cook. When they walked in, conversation still buzzed about the reporter and how she was there to expose the truth. Sam's friends looked at one another in horror and stepped into the entry, dialing her phone as quickly as they could.

#############

Sam was ready to scream. Her brother-in-law, Vernon, was being as offensive and cruel as he could be. He'd cornered her on more than one occasion, making barely veiled threats of what would happen if she stayed with he and his family. She was nearing the point where she would tell Gibbs, but she didn't want the man to have to help her more than he already had.

He was loading boxes as quickly as Joseph, talking on the phone when he needed to with his office, and was there with a wink or smile more than once. With the exact opposite attitude of Vernon, stood her father-in-law.

John Quincy Adams Walking Tall had spent years being a rough man. However, those days were long gone. In place of the angry, stormy man he had been, was a loving, generous, kind man who wished to make his past right.

The older man had no idea of what the silver-haired man's relationship to his daughter-in-law was, but he could see a connection. She behaved differently with him. Not as a woman in love, but as a woman who was confident and sure of her place. He was glad to see it, especially when he saw that the man treated her with respect, gave her dignity and was not troubled by her love for her husband.

He smiled to himself as he thought of his son. The man had been hopelessly in love with her since he was first learning to walk. He could think of no one he would have wished for to be in his son's heart more. If anything, the knowledge that she still loved him said volumes about her relation to this Gibbs. Theirs was a good friendship, and it was good to see. If and when they chose to be more, he hoped he would be able to give his blessing.

Gibbs scowled as he heard the low drone of Vernon once again. The man had a bad habit of saying things just under his breath that Sam wouldn't share, but the look on her face let him know they weren't nice. He motioned to Tony to take his place in the passing line, and stepped out so he could hear what was being said.

"…slut! You know you sleep around! I heard all about you and that man! You think he'd be here helping if he wasn't getting something from you? You're ugly enough…" Gibbs stepped between the two, his face in Vernon's.

"Don't you dare say another word." Gibbs' jaw clenched with anger.

"Or what? You'll hit me? Defend that whore of yours?"

"Get out." Gibbs eyes flashed, and only the knowledge that if he raised a hand now, he'd kill the man, kept him from lashing out physically. Vernon flipped him off and stalked out of the barn.

Before Vernon was out of the barn, Gibbs had Sam held tight, calming her as she shook with anger. Her fingers clutched his shirt, digging in almost painfully in her desperation.

None of them heard the van pull up, or Vernon begin his angry tirade against his sister-in-law. Hoping he would find them proving him right, he led the eager young reporter and her camera man to the door he had just come from.

Sam had just stood back from Jethro, wiping her eyes, as they entered.

"Mrs. Walking Tall! My name is Carol Jordan, and I'm here on behalf of ZNN. I've been in town, and the accusations against you by your neighbors are serious." Sam stared at her in shock, so Jordan took it upon herself to keep a rhetoric going.

"As I come around the corner, I find a barn full of men that is already emptied of livestock, for indeed, the only animals left seem to be mice. The farms records are being loaded into a van as we speak, proving that the woman in question is indeed running. All of this makes us wonder… What IS going on down on the farm?"

Jethro put a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"No one say a word." He glanced around at the small group he'd spent the day with. After making sure everyone would stay silent, he stepped forward. "I suggest you get your facts straight. Now leave."

"I've come from town, where I've heard all sorts of stories about what happens here. Are you indeed protecting her?"

"I asked you to leave." Gibbs was grinding his words out between gritted teeth.

"It's my right as a journalist to be here and asking questions so the American people can have answers as to why one woman can maintain a choke hold over so many lives."

"This is private property, and you can leave, or we can press trespassing charges."

"Believe me, trespassing charges will be a small price to pay for exposing the crimes being committed here. If I leave, she gets away, and the innocent people in town are left with unanswered questions."

Tony and Ziva crept behind the foolish woman, and with moves Gibbs was proud of, had her and her camera man on the dusty floor in seconds. They were both cuffed while Gibbs called for back-up.

Meanwhile, in town, other news stations had heard of the story, and every major station had their own voice on location. They interviewed and gave breaking reports, not caring if their "news" was the truth or fiction. They simply wanted to be the first to get the word out.

Some reporters who had been around for a while were being cautious about what they reported, sticking to claims and conjectures and speaking about the frenzy of their newer companions. They were eager to have a story, but could see how the lack of facts could easily earn them lawsuits. So they stated the same sentences in multiple ways, making it seem that they had something for the nation.

As Carol and Bill sat in cuffs waiting for their ride, most of the group finished packing the truck. Jethro wanted to get Sam to the house, but was afraid of leaving her alone up there. She was shaking, and he eventually asked Joseph to take care of her.

Fornell pulled in, his eyes blazing. He'd already told the bitchy woman that she was barking up the wrong tree, and that he'd have a statement when he had the official word on what he could say. On-going investigation meant just that. An on-going investigation that may or may not be up for discussion. He couldn't help it if she misunderstood, but he'd be damned if he'd let her get away with this.

"Where are they?" Fornell barged into the barn, ready to kill.

"They're over here." Jethro walked out and shook his friends hand. "How you doin', Tobias?"

"Pretty good." Both turned to face the reporters. "So, being told to wait in town wasn't enough, huh?"

"You didn't tell me to wait." Carol spat. "You said you had no statement at the time." Both of the federal agents smirked, rolling their eyes. "So I got the story from the townspeople."

"Oh, shit." Fornell groaned and rubbed his head. "What a circus."

"Tell me about it. You're getting to sit in town in an office following evidence and paper trials of corruption while we're out here trying to keep her alive."

"Excuse me?" Carol spat out her words. "Everyone in town knows she's having an affair with a federal agent, and he's behind the cover-up to blame others for her crimes. You refusing to answer questions and detaining us here only serves as evidence against you."

"Ziva, put down the gun. You can't shoot em." Fornell wasn't sure if the woman had her gun or not, but he figured he'd say it anyway. "Not yet, anyway. You can ask again after I've talked with her."

##########################

Gibbs and Fornell drove at breakneck speed back to town, their prisoners complaining the entire way. As their news affiliates watched, Carol and Bill were ushered into the police station. Fornell stood on the steps and made a statement that any further broadcasts would be subject to slander, and that reporters had better wait for an official statement before making any further newscasts.

Within an hour, a press conference was organized and Fornell sat at the table with Gibbs, fielding questions, most of which were answered with "We have no comment at this time." Only questions regarding the number of people arrested, the acknowledgement of evidence against all parties arrested, and statements defending the integrity of those involved with the arrests were answered in short, terse, barely polite sentences.

Carol and Bill were in separate interrogation rooms, waiting for what seemed like forever for someone to come talk to them. As far as the two top investigators were concerned, they could wait all year.

###########################

Ziva paced like a caged animal. Sam was upset, and it was the fault of the irritating little man who was unfortunately Joseph's father. He had started making comments about Gibbs as soon as he was gone, and even when Tony told him to stop, he kept going.

Sam had tried to go to the house for a bit, but Vernon had followed her, making her return to the barn just for the comfort of others. John Quincy had spoken to his son-in-law several times, and was getting angry with him.

Joseph had stood up to his father and when Ziva saw the newly blackened eye the boy sported for his efforts, her patience met its end. Vernon found himself face down in a pile of manure, the short woman holding his arm at an angle that was beyond painful.

"I will warn you this once." She growled into his ear. "After that, the pressure on your arm will be nothing compared to the pressure I will put onto your neck. You are despicable, hateful, and I would relay the option of killing you."

"It's "relish the opportunity", Zee-vah."

"You can't do this!" Vernon struggled against her.

"Yes, she can." Tony smirked. "She's an assassin."

################

Gibbs and Tobias walked into interrogation together, Gibbs slapping a file down on the table before him. He leaned against the wall while Tobias sat. Gibbs stared at her while Tobias "read" the file his partner had set down.

"Are you two just going to sit there, or are you going to tell me why I'm here?"

"You should know why you're here. You were detained during the commission of the charges." Fornell never looked up.

"Charges? What charges?"

"Trespassing, slander, if you printed anything, we have you on libel, and I may think of something else before we're done here." Carol scoffed as she listened. "I'm not joking."

"I can't believe this. I'm doing my job…" Gibbs slammed his hands down on the table, making her jump.

"Your job is to report news, not slander." She stared at him for a moment.

"I have multiple sources, and one of them is out on that farm." She nodded, her finger tapping the table for emphasis. "Vernon is willing to go on record to tell what has been going on out there."

"Don't waste your breath, Tobias." Gibbs looked ready to explode. "Book her and her lackey, give them their one phone call, and I suggest you use it calling your boss." He got right in her face for his next words. "You have used your rights to harass and humiliate another. What makes you think your rights are more important than anyone elses?"

"I violated no one's rights!" She stood, and he resisted the urge to push her back into her chair.

"Right. And that's why you left when you were asked to the first time." Carol found herself waiting in the room alone until an officer came and led her to a phone for her one free three minute call.

###############

Gibbs called the farm to check on everyone and rolled his eyes as he heard Vernon complaining in the background. He told DiNozzo to handle it. He heard his SFA chuckle, and figured he'd have a hog-tied and gagged idiot by the time he got home.

"I don't care if Sam's not ready to go, you and Ziva need to help get her and her family ready to go. I want her bag packed in the car and the tank full by the time I get there. We're leaving town ASAP."

"She's kind of in shock, Boss."

"I know." He stopped for a moment, wanting to go beat something just because she could. "We need to get her out of here and quick, before more reporters show up."

"We'll be ready, Boss."


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: Don't own it!

Note: Thanks to my awesome beta, Headbanger Rockstar! Love ya! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: Thanks to everyone who is reading and alerting and reviewing!

###################################

When Gibbs pulled in at the farm, he was surprised to see Vernon backed up against the truck by an elderly John Quincy, and not Tony. Aaron and Sally were here, by the looks of it, for Aaron stood by Joseph, getting a running translation from the astounded young man. Jethro looked up toward the house and could see Sally as she sank to the floor, most likely sitting by her friend.

With a look to the confrontation in the yard, Gibbs ran inside. John Quincy had things firmly in hand, and while he was fascinated, he wanted to check on Sam first, just to be sure she was ok.

Sam was in a corner, her back pressed to the wall as she struggled to breathe through the growing panic. The horrors of the last week were catching up with her, and having had the reporter show up and accost her was something she'd not even considered. And then came the worst blow of all. Vernon bragging about how he'd be telling the world the truth about her to the world.

"But it won't be the truth, Vernon." She'd raged at him. "None of what you say is the truth! You want my money? Money that I don't really have? Fine! Take it! But it's already paying for your son to go to college, and it buys your daughters…"

"See! That's what I mean! You lord your money over us like some great queen!"

"I do not! I love my family! I don't tell you what to do, or where to live, or even how to live! But I can make sure that my family is cared for!"

John Quincy had enough. Tony had tried to reason with the man, Ziva had threatened him, but still he tried for power. Power which was never his. Power which he had given away by being lazy and blaming others around him for everything wrong in his life, spitting in the faces of those who had helped him.

The older man's voice rolled with the same low thunder as his grandson. Vernon stepped back, surprised, and thinking he was going to show the old man up. And then his son began to translate, leaving him no option but to stand and take it. He couldn't argue in English and twist the man's words.

As John Quincy spoke his anger and humiliation towards his useless son-in-law, Sam struggled to keep her composure and make it to the house. The constant assault on her had finally pushed her to her limit, but she refused to give the man his pleasure by breaking before him.

She heard the door open and close behind her, and for a moment, she was afraid that he'd followed her. Sally's soothing voice reached her ears, and Sam let go. Burying her face in her hands, she slid back into the now empty corner of her living room and wept.

Sally's words didn't register with Sam, but the comfort in them was welcomed. When she felt Sally sit by her, she leaned into her friend, grateful for the support. The door opened again, and terror flooded her. She felt Sally back away, and wanted to reach out to keep her close.

The smell of Old Spice filled her nostrils, and a low, gentle, barely above a hum, voice told her she was doing fine. Reminded her to breathe with him, placing her hand on his chest to help her find the same deep breaths he took. With her head cradled against his shoulder, his arms tight around her, and his breaths calm and slow, he helped her find her way out of chaos and back into safety.

############################

Carol called her boss, only to find that he'd already been called. And he wasn't impressed. For the one short minute she spoke with him, she was subjected to a rant regarding professionalism, proper reporting, and how she'd failed on every count except proving she could work for a tabloid.

At ZNN, damage control was underway. Fornell had spoken in great length to the CEO of the network, and the decision was made to expose all of the ugliness surrounding the frenzy. This was a human interest story of epic proportions, an example of the prejudice still rampant against Native Americans in rural America, and the horrors that can come about from spreading rumors.

Harrison Jones, a reporter who had spent nearly twenty years working abroad to show the world the terrors in third world countries, jumped at the chance. He'd heard of injustices on his home soil, but nothing in his career ever came close to this.

Harrison strode confidently into his manager's office and presented a plan for showing America the real problems here. This was a story of corrupt government and of prejudice. He wanted to showcase the role of Native Americans in the military, their contributions to American society, and expose the undercurrent of hate and anger still simmering beneath the pleasantries of political correctness.

Within hours, he had interviews scheduled with leaders in the American Indian Movement, he'd contacted a military journalist he'd worked with in Iraq and the man was preparing an approved biography of the Marine who had served his country, patriotism overruling the prejudice he faced from his neighbors.

His widow would be showcased as well, and as he investigated into her life, he found a woman he admired before he was out of his office. Public records showed animals donated to state fairs as prizes for children in 4-H and FFA. Over fifty goats in twenty years had been donated to needy children who wanted to experience the joy of an animal. He began to call around, asking those he spoke with about the woman in question, and he heard from children the story of a generous woman who remembered birthdays and never hesitated to congratulate when she lost in the ring.

"She never got upset, huh?" He had been talking with an excited ten year old boy who had won his second "Best in Show" ribbon with a doe he'd won during a showmanship competition.

"No, mister." The boy's voice was filled with love for the person he spoke about. "She told me that it was great I won! She said she's old, and I'm young, and for me to win, shows that I'm working hard and taking good care of my goat. And she said that responsibility makes good people, so she knows I'll grow up to be good."

Harrison shared the bad news of Sam losing her farm with the boy, and to his surprise, the child began to cry. His mom got on the phone and spoke with Jones, asking what had happened. She got her son back to the phone and talked to him as Harrison listened. The reporter knew he'd hit gold when he heard the little boy sniffle out a single response.

"She can have my goats, Mommy. She'll love them like I do."

#############################

Sam had stopped crying a few minutes before, but was trying to decide if she was unwilling or unable to move. Either way, she seemed frozen within her body. Jethro had fallen silent beside her, simply holding her as he comforted her.

Both heard the door close, soft footsteps, and then a soft voice.

"Hey, Boss? We should get going. Nobody's here yet, but I don't want to get stuck, either."

"Ok, Tony. Is the car loaded?"

"Yeah. Um, is Joseph coming with us, or going with his Grandpa?"

"He should go with his Grandpa." Gibbs sighed. "He's gonna have to go back to school in a couple of days, and he needs to referee on the way home." Tony chuckled.

"No, he won't have to. Um, John Quincy just told Vernon that he can walk home. That he's dishonored his brother-in-law so badly, that he doesn't deserve to even go home." Sam looked up, her eyes wide. "I guess the house Vernon lives in is owned by John Quincy, and he's not welcome there anymore. His wife and kids can stay, but he can't. Not until he makes it right."

"How's he gonna get home?"

"No idea." Tony shrugged.

"He can take the truck." Sam sighed. "On the condition he gives it to Joseph. That rust-trap he's driving looks like it's ready to fall apart." Tony grinned.

"Hey, Joseph! You just got yourself a new truck! And Vagina, oh, excuse me, Vernon, you get to drive his old truck! Only, oh, wait! You don't get to keep it! It's still his! You just don't have to walk your chunky butt home!" Sam giggled as she listened to her friend go on, and at her nephew's whoop, she snuggled into Gibbs' side a little more.

"Thank you." She felt his lips press to her hair.

"You're welcome. Come on. Let's get out of here."

Sally and Aaron came inside and they said their goodbyes, letting Sam have a moment with her family outside. The two women cried, hating the forced separation. Sam promised to call as soon as she was settled, and Aaron said he'd send his wife for a visit whenever she was ready.

"You'd better come, too, Mister."

"Oh, I will. Just gotta give you two some time to catch up so I can survive it." Gibbs smirked.

Gibbs, Tony, and Ziva stood to the side as Sam hugged her nephew close. She backed up and took his face in her hands, imparting some final order. He nodded, tears filling his eyes as he hugged her once again. When he backed up, he was the fierce warrior she'd come to be immensely proud of in the last few days. He said something in that voice of his that rolled like thunder, and whatever it was, his grandfather nodded his approval as his father turned away.

John Quincy stepped up to her, and the two shared a look. Gibbs couldn't see her face, but the look on his was one of a proud and loving father. The old man didn't say much, but the expressions he used and the kiss he pressed to her forehead spoke volumes. With a nod and a hand pressed into hers, he turned away. When Vernon made to step toward her, the old man stepped in front of him and stared his son-in-law down.

While Gibbs and his companions got Sam loaded safely into their cars for the drive to the airport, Joseph set about attaching the tow-bar to the trailer. His aunt was pulling out of the drive, sitting up front with Gibbs as Joseph drove his new truck onto the device. Tony beeped and waved from the car he and Ziva had arrived in as he followed his boss off the property.

They would be flying out from a small airfield two hours in the opposite direction from the one they'd come in from. They were taking a charted plane from there to an undisclosed city so Sam could travel unmolested.

Sam sat staring out the window, watching as the fields she grew up in flew past. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she didn't try to stop them. When Gibbs reached over and took her hand, squeezing gently, she held on, grateful for her friend and his support. For miles, they drove in silence, their joined hands seeming to communicate all they needed to say.

###################################

Carol sighed in frustration as she was finally released. It had taken them long enough. She walked out, expecting to be greeted by her boss so she could start telling him how things had happened and hopefully salvage her job.

The sharply dressed lawyer wasn't what she was expecting. Nor was the man she'd recognized as someone from the Public Relations Department. She started to speak, only to have her lawyer advise her to not say another word.

She heard the name Harrison Jones mentioned, and shuddered. If he was coming, she'd just screwed herself. And she knew it.

###############################

Aaron and Sally stood in their friends empty house long after everyone else had left. He held his wife as she cried, as angry as she was at the mess surrounding them. She had tried for so many years to do the right thing, to be the best person she could be, even when times were tough.

Anger built in him, and he wished he could go into town and bruise his knuckles. One thing was sure, he'd not be eating at Phyllis' any time soon. In his book, that bitch was done. So when his wife asked if he'd take her there, he looked down at her, wondering what she was up to.

"Why?" He drew the word out.

"I just want to go see her." Sally was being sickeningly sweet. She even batted her eyes.

"Depends. Why do you want to go?" The impish look that came into her eyes had him grinning. "Ok, Honey, but I'm not sure we've got enough in the bank to bail you out."

"Ok. I've eaten PB and J before." She nearly skipped from the house and was in the car, seatbelt fastened before he was past the yard gate.

##########################

"We're almost there, Sam." Jethro's voice was gentle. "Are you hungry? Do you want to stop somewhere for a bite to eat?"

"I don't know." Her voice was small.

"Did you eat this afternoon?" She shook her head. "Ok. So we'll stop somewhere quick. You like Chinese?" She shrugged.

"Never had it."

"Is there anything that sounds good?"

"Something easy so I don't have to be around people much."

He pulled his hand from hers for a moment, pulling his phone from his pocket. He looked down, relieved to see he had signal. Ziva was surprised when her phone rang.

"Yes, Gibbs?"

"Can you find us somewhere to have lunch?" She said she could, and he hung up, offering his hand to his companion once again. She latched on like it was her lifeline, and kept it as Tony passed them and led them to a small and now rarely used bed and breakfast that had agreed to make them lunch.

Tony was to her door as Gibbs was still unbuckling his seatbelt. He opened her door and helped her from the car. She smiled up at him and he winked.

"Gotta take care of our girl."

"How are you?" Ziva stepped up, reaching out and rubbing Sam's shoulder. "Is there anything you need to take in with us?"

"I'm not sure where my wallet is." She patted her pockets, her eyes wide.

"It's in your bag, don't worry, and we've got lunch." Sam nodded and Gibbs shot his second a grateful look. He'd not even thought to make sure she had her drivers' license or any other ID. He had been just interested in getting her away from there.

Surrounding her with support, the team moved with her into the restaurant, keeping her safe from prying eyes and they answered every question about who they were and where they were going.

Gibbs sat next to her, his arm around her through most of the meal. They ate slowly, making sure she got enough without feeling rushed or pressured. By the time they were ready to go, Tony had talked the elderly couple who ran the establishment into packing them goodie boxes of the delicious meatloaf and potatoes. They all visited the facilities, and then were on the road again, off the small airport.

Sam's eyes widened. Jethro looked over to her, wondering why she'd gasped.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She sounded almost excited. "I've never seen a plane this close before."

"You've never flown?"

"No. I mean, I've been to the airport, but only to pick people up and drop them off." She pointed with her chin to one that was taking off. "Look at that."

"What about when you went to visit Ellis?"

"I'd take the bus." She shrugged. "Took a bit longer, but we could afford it."


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: Don't own it!

Note: Thanks to my amazing beta, Headbanger Rockstar! LOVE YOU! !

Note: Now... for a slower, easier pace. :)

###########################

Harrison Jones had interview after interview before he boarded his flight. He wanted to be able to hit the ground running. To that end, he had compiled a vast arsenal of facts, regarding everything he wanted to talk about in his upcoming series of specials from the contributions of Native Americans in the military from as early as the Revolutionary War to present, to the official biography of an American Hero by the name of Ellis Walking Tall, to simple facts that were easily found on public record.

Samantha Walking Tall had made several reports, and evidence backed her every time, including a drug test at her own instance. He had a copy of the scathing letter to the newspaper which had come out in the last few hours by someone trying to make themselves famous. He had conversations with people who had been on the receiving end of the generosity consistently practiced by the woman. In his files were copies of letters faxed to him from grateful children and several from club leaders who had been happy to provide him with their copies of donation slips that she had requested for record's sake.

He'd been on the phone, and had called to the farm several times to see if he could get an answer. However, the phone had only rung for several minutes every time. He sat pouring over his notes, getting his opening prepared, while his assistant worked on locating the woman.

They arrived at the once sleepy town and made their way to the now crowded hotel. They got settled, and Harrison went in search of any official he could find. His CEO had told him to contact an Agent Fornell once he was here, and he wanted to make that connection as quickly as he could.

He introduced himself to the balding FBI agent, and the men began to talk about the situation. Fornell had already been told to expect the man, and to answer questions as he could, but to not give anything beyond what was already being broadcast. As the basic facts of the last week at the farm had been leaked to the media already, Fornell was able to share basic facts and the news that Sam was no longer in the area.

When he learned that she had left because of the pressure and the need for safety, he started to ask more questions. When he learned the true scope of what was happening, Harrison realized the hatred brewing in this town was worse than he'd realized. His face set with determination, and when he went before the camera one short hour later, tension radiated off of him.

#####################################

Aaron and Sally had driven home first to get chores done. He'd insisted, and while she could understand, as what she was most certainly premeditating was a crime, she hated that she couldn't go right away. But she had to admit that it was a good idea to wait. She'd moved past wanting to rip out Phyllis' hair to just slapping her and maybe breaking her coffee pots.

"You still want to go?" They stood in their barn, the chores done early, and she nodded.

"You drive or I take myself."

"I'm driving." He grinned and started up the truck while she got her coat and purse. He laughed as he realized she'd changed out of her dirty barn clothes and was clean. Her eyebrow peaked comically.

"If she gets pissy, I'm not gonna be dirty all night." He just laughed.

##################################

The plane had touched down, but Sam's fingers were still clutched tight to the arms of her seat. Jethro had tried several times to get her to relax, but there was no getting her calmed. They'd hit turbulence once, and she'd closed her eyes tightly, gasping in fear every time the plane changed altitude or bumped. He'd run his thumb across her cheek once to catch a tear during the worst of it, but it was as if she didn't even notice.

"We're here, Sam." He started to pry her fingers away from the plastic pieces. "You can let go."

"We're still moving."

"But we're on the ground." He tried hard to not smile. "We'll be stopped soon."

"No more planes?"

"No, no more planes. I promise." The small plane came to a halt, and Sam opened her eyes, feeling foolish as she realized Tony and Ziva were sleeping. Gibbs saw the feeling cross her face. "They're used to flying in cargo planes. No seats and lots of bumps."

"I was so scared, and they're asleep."

"Yeah." Gibbs kissed her cheek. "This is your first time flying. It's ok." He nodded to them, imitating her habit of pointing with her head instead of her hands. "Want to see something funny?"

"Sure." He winked and stood, standing behind Tony. "Hey, DiNozzo! What happened to my coffee?" Sam smiled, not sure if she should laugh or not when Tony jumped up, his eyes wide. His seatbelt caught his waist, and he flopped back as Ziva's elbow met him in the gut.

"Ooof! That's not nice, Boss."

"No, but it's funny." Gibbs rolled his eyes and Sam felt the laughter build. When Tony shot her a look full of comical indignation, she let her laughter out. Tony looked back to his boss to playfully complain. He decided not to when he saw the relief in Gibbs' eyes.

"So where are we, Boss?" Tony had unfastened himself and stood.

"About twenty minutes outside of Stillwater." Tony cheered.

"Grandpa Gibbs!" Sam watched as Jethro shook his head.

"Tony, I'm warning you…" Ziva laughed and pushed past them both.

"You can warn him all you want to, Gibbs. It will do no good." Sam chuckled as Gibbs shook his head.

"I guess they like your father?"

"Uh-huh. What's worse, is that he likes them." His eyes betrayed his smile. "Come on."

Twenty minutes later, they pulled in front of a small house complete with the white picket fence. A man with a large smile came from the house, greeting them as he waved them in. When Sam walked in, his smile grew, and he held out his hand.

"You must be the young woman Abby called me about."

"Abby!" Sam's eyes went wide. "I didn't call her and let her know…"

"We told her." Gibbs rubbed his hand down her back. "Relax." She blushed, and he motioned toward his father. "Sam, this is my dad, Jack. Jack, this is Sam."

They exchanged pleasantries, the older man flirting shamelessly, which made her blush all the more. She teased back, warming to him immediately. Jack led them to the kitchen where he had dinner ready for them.

#################################################

"…small town, what should be an example of people working together and helping one another in the face of hardship, we find not community, but prejudice. We find hatred, not understanding. We find corruption, and not the morals we have come to believe make up the heart of the American West." Harrison paused for effect. "Tonight begins a series here on ZNN. This story does not come from the most arid deserts of Africa, or the leveled mountains of Asia following a devastating earthquake." Another pause, and he went for the kill. "This story comes from our own plains, and it's a story that has been long in the making."

Pictures, both historical and current, played behind him. He proceeded to speak about progress made for peace between people, highlighting several towns across America that showcased their pride in the rich history of the people that originally settled their areas. He spoke of forgiveness ceremonies and of efforts to teach children to respect cultures not their own, both Anglo and Native American.

Pictures of children in multicultural playgroups flashed behind him, most of them pictures from rural locations, Harrison wanting to be sure the world understood that most of America respected their neighbors, no matter what their nationality or religion. But he was going to show the ugly truth in this small part of the country for what it was, and the rest of the nation could check its own morals.

He spoke of a couple who married young, who worked hard. He served his country with pride while she kept their future flourishing. He told of accusations and threats, telling of the towns' treatment of the Walking Tall family. He went on to describe Ellis' death and the attack on the farm following his funeral.

Moving on to describe the lonely life of Samantha Walking Tall, he described rumors and accusations that she was, alone, able to prove untrue at every turn. When he ended with Mrs. Walking Tall fleeing for her safety, America was on the edge of their seats, and more than one lawyer had called the network, volunteering their services to help in any way they could.

#################

"So, Sam," Jack smiled at the shaken woman his son was busy fawning over. "How do you know my son and his kids?"

"Jack!"

"What? You worry about them eating, you keep track of them on weekends off, you have dinner with them on holidays…"

"Alright, alright." Gibbs held up his hands as he gave up the battle. "Just stop encouraging them."

"But it's fun." Sam chuckled.

"I was heading to the barn to do the afternoon feeding when I thought I heard a horn."

"You heard a horn?"

"Many times." Her face was serious, and even though everyone but Jack knew the story, they sat back to listen. Story telling was something she'd learned to do as a child, and she kept them all captivated with her tale.

When she came to the part of Gibbs' problem in the blizzard, she toned the story down, making it seem as if he'd gotten frostbite and only needed help to get back to the house. Jack cocked his head.

"Now, young lady, I've heard that story from Abby. She made it sound a lot worse than that." Sam blushed, unable to stop her smile.

"You caught me." Gibbs smirked. "I was trying to make it sound not so bad."

"How bad was it?"

"He was unconscious." Sam looked down at her hands. "His heart was slow, his skin stayed chilled for hours, and I was glad none of his toes or fingers blackened."

###################################

Joseph walked into his home, making his dad wait outside. He threw a few clothes into a bag for the man and tossed them out the door. His grandfather had already called his mother, and the woman threatened to shoot her husband if he crossed the threshold. John Quincy had smirked, wondering if his son-in-law had said things to her, as well. This would either change him, or it would destroy him. Either was fine with the old man by this time.

Vernon picked up his bag and started to get back into the truck. Joseph opened the door and shouted at him.

"That's my truck! You take it, I report it stolen!" He slammed the door once again, watching as his father walked down the drive. His mom came and stood by him.

"I'm so sorry, Joseph."

"Me, too." He put his arm over her shoulders. "I don't understand why he has to be like this."

"He's too proud to bend."

"Proud? Idiotic, more like it." He scoffed. "Pride would be flipping burgers if it put food on the table." His mother sighed.

"You have pride and wisdom, Joseph. He missed the wise part." They stood in silence for a bit when one of his little sisters ran in.

"Where's Dad?"

"Not here." Joseph motioned for her to sit, and he proceeded to tell them everything that had happened. Mary gasped, not wanting to believe that her sister-in-law had gone through all of that.

"How is she, Joseph?" The young man wiped his eyes before answering.

"She'll survive, Mom. Just like always." He rose and went outside.

#########################################

"You ok?" Gibbs stood in the doorway of the room Sam was getting settled in.

"Yeah." She blew out a shaky breath. "I think so." He crossed the room and sat by her.

"If you need anything, you call, ok?"

"Ok." She wiped at a tear.

"Hey, you'll be ok. My dad's gonna take good care of you."

"Thanks." She leaned into him, getting one last hug. "I just wish I could call Joseph, make sure he got home ok."

"Who says you can't?"

"Long distance." She shrugged. "I don't know how much it is, and I'm not going to run up his bill." Her eyes met his, full of worry and fear. "I don't know how long it'll be before I find a job. I mean, I've never had one. I've just worked the farm, and I've never lived in town. I don't know how much things cost." She began to talk faster, and he shushed her.

"Hey, don't worry about that now. We've got you." He sat next to her, his hand rubbing up and down her arm as she calmed back down. "Call Joseph, don't worry about money, and get some sleep, ok?" She nodded, and he hugged her tight once more before standing. "I've gotta go, but ask Jack for anything you need, ok?"

"Ok." Her voice shook, and he could feel her hand tremble as she slipped it into his for a moment. "Thank you so much for everything." They shared a smile and headed downstairs.

He gave Jack a few last instructions, mostly about making sure she rested and wasn't out in public very much. She bid goodbye to Tony and Ziva first, saving Jethro for last. He was as reluctant to leave her as she was for him to go, but for now, it was the best.

"Don't forget to call if you need anything." With that, he was out the door. The remaining occupants stood at the door as the agents drove away, she watching the car, he watching her.

"So, Sam, what's your pleasure? Do you want time alone, or do you want to play a game, watch a movie?" His eyebrows rose.

"I don't think I can sleep right now." She smiled. "How about a game?"

"I think I'm gonna like having you here." He motioned to the kitchen table, and two hours later he smiled softly as she fell asleep waiting for him to make his next move.

###################################

Several states away, Sally and Aaron walked into the crowded café. Phyllis looked up, hoping to be able to get a rise out of the other woman. Harrison Jones watched the subtle interaction with interest. He'd heard rumors of Sam having one friend in town. He wondered if she was it.

"Hi. It's a wonder you didn't run off with that woman." She sneered. "You two being so close and all. She's got those people believing she's…" She never finished as Sally's hand came out and slapped her hard across the face.

"You want to talk about a lying, drug dealing bitch?" Tears of anger ran down Sally's face. "She never did anything to any one of you!" Filled with anger and not caring who heard or knew, she started to speak. "Bob! Did you forget her showing up with a goat last winter when you lost your job? You ate it, but still talked about her! Jodi! What about you? You really want me to go on about all of you two-faced, finger-pointing, lying bastards? You want me to tell them lies about you?"

People started to look away, not wanting to meet the angry woman's eyes.

"Yeah! Thought so! When it comes to you, you think twice! You want me to tell these people everything I," here she raised her hands and made quote marks, "know about all of you?" Silence reigned for a moment. "Go to hell! All of you!" Aaron stood dumbfounded for a moment before he drug her from the building, talking the entire way.

"Honey! That was awesome!"

Inside the restaurant, Phyllis had started shrieking that she wanted Sally to be arrested. With a sigh, Fornell nodded to two of the officers. They went out and cuffed the woman, walking her over to the jail.

He couldn't say it was self-defense…yet. He wondered if he could find a way. Or a way to have it declared justifiable. As the judge was now in jail, and she couldn't be denied bail, Fornell checked records to be sure, but he released her twenty minutes later on a personal bond and a promise to not do it again tonight.


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to my fabulous beta, Headbanger Rockstar! LOVE YOU! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! FFN wasn't letting me respond, but several came in before the site had problems, and in case I miss anyone, THANK YOU!

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Joseph sat at the table for a long time after he'd finished eating. His youngest sister had crawled into his lap, and they'd cuddled until she'd fallen asleep. He thought through several ways of caring for his family. He had a terrible feeling in his gut that his dad was going to leave. Not just for the night or until he calmed down and saw that restitution needed to be made, but forever, and probably never look back. If he was honest with himself, it was something he'd expected for a long time.

His dad hadn't worked in years, so there would be no lost income. On the other hand, the man had watched his children, allowing Mary to work without having to pay for childcare. He sighed and stood, the limp four-year-old still in his arms. He carried her to bed and tucked her in.

His semester was paid for already, and he was over half way done. In fact, finals were in four weeks. He could be out of school for four years before he lost his credits. He sighed. He didn't want to do that, but if he'd learned one thing from his aunt and uncle, it was that family came first.

He continued worrying and wondering as he started to unload the truck he'd packed after unloading everything from the trailer. An' Sam had sent her pantry home with him, and he carried in case after case of quart jars. Where the family's pantry had been nearly bare before, it was now packed tightly.

He pulled the chain for the light, turning it off just before shutting the door. He checked back with his mom and sisters, making sure they were all ok before he headed back outside. The girls were almost done with their homework. He yawned and wondered if life would go on as usual, or if everything would change. Whatever happened, he planned on enjoying the next four days at home.

##############

Carol sat in the law offices of Rogan and Rogan. She had done a fine job of not only messing up her former employment, but she'd managed to get herself basically barred from reporting ever again. As she listened to the lawyer talk about charges from Gibbs and Sam, her eyes widened as she understood that the network was also filing charges.

"Can they do that?"

"Ms. Jordan, you went on assignment with the understanding that you would do a job correctly and appropriately. You did not follow through on your contractual obligations. Your actions have resulted in several problems for them, as you are on camera slandering, several web-postings of your "interview" have gone nearly viral, which opens you to libel charges, and as you trespassed while under the employ of the network, should Mrs. Walking Tall decide to sue, she will have the right to sue you personally, as well as ZNN."

Carol sat back in stunned silence. So much for being the first reporter to break the big story. She'd let herself get caught up in the sensation, and it was the biggest mistake she'd ever made.

##############################

Jack had coffee on long before Sam came down the stairs. It was still early, but he needed to be off soon for the store. She smiled nervously, not sure of what to do.

"Good morning!" His voice rang out cheerily, and she felt herself relax. "How'd you sleep?"

"Good, thanks." She yawned, covering her mouth as she crossed the kitchen to the coffee pot.

"I've got to go to the store today." His eyes twinkled. "My son was very insistent on making sure you rest today." Sam blushed. "There's the TV, and let me show you where the books are. Then, I'll get out of your hair." Sam scoffed.

"In my hair? I think it's the other way around." Her eyes fell to the floor. "Is there anything I can do today? Like, work things?"

"My son would kill me." Jack grinned. "I'm under strict orders to not let you do anything but cook." He leaned forward. "Apparently, you're quite the cook."

"Well, I like to eat, so they go hand in hand." She teased him back.

"Good. I'm supposed to remind you to call Joseph and Abby, and when you're done, call Leroy."

"Leroy?" Her brow knit for a moment. Then she began to laugh. She was going to have to call him that one of these days. Jack left, and Sam looked around the kitchen, her eyes settling on the stove. With a sigh, she guessed there was no better time to learn to cook on one of those than now.

She ate her eggs and bacon, fried herself a piece of toast, and then looked for the telephone. She talked with her sister-in-law for a bit before getting her nephew on the phone. He never said what was on his mind, but she knew, simply from the connection they shared.

She wished she could keep him in school, but right now she felt so uncertain, that she didn't want to make promises she couldn't keep. And school was a big promise. They talked about his father, and she expressed regret that he was being so vile. Joseph assured her it wasn't her fault, and with that, they ended their call.

Her next call was to Abby, and the Goth nearly fell over herself on the phone worrying and coming up with ideas to help. Sam chuckled more than once, grateful to the younger woman for her friendship.

It was with a better sense of well-being that she dialed Gibbs' familiar number. Unknown to her, the new director was in a meeting regarding the mess he had become enmeshed in. He was starting paperwork to take down to Sam over the weekend. Putting her through the choices of suing or not suing wasn't something he wanted to be bungling. He knew that NCIS would be filing charges, based on defamation of character of the director of a federal agency.

He'd been calm all morning, not worried about her at all, as he knew his father would be close, and if she'd had so much as a nightmare, Jack would have told him when he'd called earlier in the morning. His phone rang and he looked at the caller ID, his gut churning when he saw his dad's number.

"Jack! Everything ok?" Sam's eyes widened.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" She nearly dropped the phone. "Jack said I should call you, and it's lunch, so…"

"Hey, Sam!" He started to speak, but she was still rambling. "Sam, it's ok. I'm on lunch." He chuckled. "I just got worried that something was wrong."

"No, nothing's wrong."

"But nothing's right?"

"Yeah, that's about it." She sighed. "I talked to Joseph, and he's so worried about what's going to happen to them, and I may be able to pay for his next year, but I don't want to promise something I can't follow through on."

"You're not supposed to be worrying about things today."

"Easy for you to say. I can't even find things to keep myself busy." Gibbs sat back and chatted with his friend, the man from legal making notes that would let him get everything together. His list grew by the minute, so when Gibbs silently asked for a moment alone, the man had plenty to keep him occupied.

"How is Joseph?"

"He's doing alright. Feels like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders." She figured she started, so she may as well finish. "He's thinking of dropping out of school so he can help his mom. Maybe get a job, be around to watch his little sisters while she works."

"His dad's gone, huh?"

"He's not sure, but he doesn't see Vernon trying. He's not made any attempts in the last few years beyond being drunk every other day instead of every day." Gibbs made a non-committal sound. "Which is so bad. He was a great guy at first. Smart, worked hard, but when he got laid off, it's like he took it personally, and never came back from it."

"Well, he's made his choices. Maybe he'll get low enough that he does change."

"We can only hope." Sam sighed. "I'd like to see Mary as happy as she was when she first got to marry that handsome computer programmer, and not struggling like she has with that idiot who doesn't love her back."

They talked a bit more about Joseph and what was going on out west. He expressed his concern that Joseph stay in school, and she agreed, but wasn't sure of how to keep him there, and he couldn't afford the interest on the loans, which is why she had been loaning him the money.

"Loaning, or gifting?" Gibbs smirked as he asked.

"Well, if I told him I didn't expect him to pay it back, he'd have never accepted it, and he'd have missed out on going."

"He's a good kid."

"The best." They chatted for a bit longer before he let her know his lunch was over, and he needed to get back to work. They said their farewells and hung up.

##############################

Aaron couldn't resist. He had to know. So he'd driven to town and sat in the corner, waiting for Phyllis to turn around. Most of the neighbor's he'd had coffee with were oddly missing this morning.

The woman in question turned around, and he bit his lip to hold back his smile. No luck. He started to laugh and left. His wife had done one fine job.

Phyllis had a fat lip, her cheek was bruised, and if the sunglasses were for more than show, she had a slightly black eye. He couldn't wait to get home and tell Sally. She'd made him proud.


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar for being my amazing beta!

Note: History lesson commencing…

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Harrison Jones settled back with a cup of coffee and watched the people's reactions after Sally left. He watched as some people grew angry and defensive while others seemed to be actually thinking. He watched Phyllis, surprised when she reacted with more screeching and foul speaking after being confronted. The more people ignored her, the louder she became. He wasn't sure what he'd do about it, but he'd do something if he could.

He went to his temporary "studio" and prepared to have his second recording session. Tonight, he would talk about the contributions of Native Americans in the military. He read over his notes once more, and with a nod to his cameraman, began.

"Tonight on this Special Report, we're going to take a look at the role of…

########################

"…Native Americans in the military. Throughout our nations' history, from the Revolutionary War to present day, Native Americans have played key roles in the success of our military. From scouting, to guerrilla warfare, to unbreakable codes, these unsung heroes have contributed with pride and honor."

Sam settled back to watch. She'd been flipping through the channels, and so far had watched a documentary on ancient Egypt, two soap operas, which she decided were pointless, and Wheel of Fortune. She'd begun flipping again, and this looked interesting.

Jack had come back from the store and they'd eaten dinner, and then he'd received a call to help one of his friends fix some small under-the-sink leak that Jack was a good hand at. So he'd left only twenty minutes ago, promising to be home within the hour. Sam laughed and told him not to worry. At his confused look, she smiled.

"You showed me how to work the TV." He chuckled, shaking his head as he left.

She listened to the man tell the history of the nations' early battles. He relayed the importance of the Iroquois Confederacy in defeating the British, and on how the early American soldiers had a distinct advantage over their European counterparts due to learning to fight like their Native American allies.

The man, who identified himself as Harrison Jones of ZNN, went on to discuss the codes created during WWII. He spoke about the Navajo and Choctaw Code Talkers and how their efforts enabled the Allied military to defeat their enemies. He spoke of the codes continued use through other conflicts, until it was declassified and no longer used after the Vietnam War.

At the commercial break, she rushed to the kitchen for a drink and to the bathroom, wanting to be sure she didn't miss a moment. She'd heard all of this before, but to see it told so beautifully on national television was something she didn't want to miss.

Pictures had been shown along with his narrative, and she found the story built pride in her. She wondered if other military wives were watching, and if they felt the same pride course through them as she did in herself. Then she laughed at her thoughts. Of course they did.

She got back to the couch just as the show came back on. The man began discussing the Marines, and how the Navajo Code Talkers from WWII had been Marines. Then he began to speak about how the history of the heroes of WWII had influenced the life of one young man. He began to tell the story of a man who became an example of integrity and pride in his country. A man whose name had Sam gasping for air between her tears.

"Gunnery Sergeant Ellis John Quincy Walking Tall…making the evening news years after his death."

Her ears heard the drone of the television, yet she understood none of the words. Her chest tightened with fear, and she glanced up at the TV to see their wedding picture displayed. She groped blindly for the phone, dialing as quickly as her shaking fingers could manage.

"Gibbs." He could hear nothing but her broken sobs. "Sam?" He waited, and then tried again. "Sam? What's wrong, Sam? I can't understand you."

"The TV." She choked out. "They're talking about Ellis on TV."

"What station?" She filled him in as he turned to the channel, relief washing over him as he realized this was the real version of what was going on. Then came the guilt. He'd forgotten to warn her earlier.

"Why, Gibbs? Why? They're talking about him and me. Why?" She was nearly screaming through her tears, and he began to fear for her.

"Sam! Sam!" She stopped talking, and he could hear her labored breathing. "They're telling people the truth. They're telling people the truth." She started to wail again, and he wished he was there. He heard the door open and hoped it was his father and not a "concerned" neighbor. That would be all she'd need right now.

"Sam?" Gibbs heard his dad's voice and breathed a sigh of relief. "What's wrong?"

"Take the phone, Jack!" Gibbs hoped he shouted loud enough to be heard.

"What's going on, Leroy?" Jack's concern was palpable.

"She saw the newscast with her husband on it. She didn't know it was coming." He growled. "Get the TV turned off and see if you can help her get calmed down."

Jack hung up on his son and flipped the TV off. He went to his cupboard and poured a healthy shot of whiskey. He sat next to her, rubbing his hand up and down her back. She sat crying into her hands for several minutes, taking what comfort she could from the gentle man beside her.

"I'm sorry." She finally whispered. "I…"

"You reacted like anyone would have. Don't worry about it." He held the glass he'd poured for her up. "Here, drink some."

Sam took the glass and drained it with two long swallows. Jack chuckled and poured her another.

"Trying to get me drunk?"

"No." He grinned. "That's my son's job." Sam rolled her eyes and smiled.

"Thanks. I needed that."

"The rude comment?" Jack winked.

"No. The stiff drink and the laugh." He pulled her into a one-armed hug and squeezed her shoulder.

"You're welcome. Now. What happened?" Sam took a deep breath and began to recount her evening. When she finished speaking, Jack hugged her close once again. "How about you call Jethro, and he can tell you any other surprises that may be coming up?" She nodded and picked up the phone.

Jethro had been pacing in his office, waiting for Jack to call him. Twenty minutes had passed, and he was hoping she'd not fallen into a total panic attack. His phone finally rang, and he answered.

"Gibbs."

"Hi." Her voice was quiet, barely to be heard.

"Hi. How are you?"

"I'm ok." She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry I screamed at you earlier."

"Don't apologize, it's a sign of weakness."

"Not if you've done a wrong." Gibbs smirked.

"See, there's the thing. You didn't do any wrong." He was glad when he heard her huff out a light chuckle. "And you're hedging. How are you?"

"I'm ok. Kinda scared."

"About tonight?"

"Yeah. And what else will happen."

Gibbs drew in a deep breath and started to tell her about the upcoming series that was going to be on every night for the next week. He asked her to not watch it, as it would be upsetting. She was glad that the truth was being told, but was upset that it needed to be as publicized as it was.

"We were hidden on the plains, Gibbs. And tonight, everyone saw our wedding pictures, they heard his service record, and it scared me."

"I know." He sighed. "I know." They talked a while longer, and when he was sure he no longer heard slight tremors of fear in her voice, he let her go.


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to my amazing beta, Headbanger Rockstar! LOVE YOU!

Note: tissue warning.

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Joseph walked back into his dorm room and breathed a sigh of relief. The last several days had been hard, and while he hated to leave, he looked forward to having a day to get back into the swing of things before classes started.

He snapped his fingers and ran down to his mailbox. He'd checked with his aunt the day before, and she'd told him that his back-to-school letter would be there waiting for him. It was one of the highlights of this particular day.

Rather than the single envelope he expected to find, there were two. The first was from his aunt. It was always a card on this first day with a letter stuffed inside. The second was a business sized envelope. He turned it over and looked at the return address. A slow smile spread across his face as he returned to his room, staring at the letter.

He opened his aunt's first, reading her words of encouragement and hope for his future. The underlying message always stayed the same, but the words were different every time. Her letters were always reminders of the love she had for him and the pride she felt in having a small part in the great man he was becoming.

_My dearest Joseph,_

_I have always been proud of you. You were always so caring, even as a child. I remember the one time Uncle Ellis had to spank you. The look of shame on your face when you realized you were in trouble had him nearly let you get away with misbehaving._

_You took that consideration for others and used it to make friends, to mow lawns for your elders, and to love animals. This last winter, I was on the receiving end of your care and consideration. _

_Joseph, you are a wonderful young man. Not because you go to college, which is wonderful, and not because you're making good grades, but because you care about others._

_Since you've been home, you've had to help your mom reorganize her life and get your sisters settled since your dad's been gone. You've not complained, even when I've known you wanted to. You've not shouted about how it's unfair that you may need to take a break from school to help your family._

_I would love to tell you that I'll keep loaning you the money for your classes, but I'm not sure I can. And I don't want to make a promise I can't keep. Please know that I will support you in any decisions you make, and if I can help you, I will. _

_I love you so much, _

_Your An' Sam_

A money order for $100.00 fell into his lap from the envelope, and he smiled at the sticky note attached to it. _Don't forget to eat. You're too skinny. Ps. Call Vicki and Rick. They have something for you._

With a sense of wonder, he picked up the second envelope. He knew he'd felt a connection to the man he'd met over break, but to have a First Day letter from him was more than he'd hoped for. He ripped open the top carefully and pulled out the sheets of paper.

_Dear Joseph,_

_Should I start a letter to you with dear? You know, I have no idea. I've not written a letter in years, and I have to admit, that this is a little weird. I've got all sorts of things in my head, but I'm not sure of which ones to say. All of these words, and I've not said anything yet. Yes, I did just laugh at myself._

_I guess I should start by saying that I enjoyed getting to know you. You're a good man. If you ever need a job, let me know. You can use me as a reference. _

_I know I'll never be anything close to what your Uncle Ellis was, but I'd like to be able to be a part of your life. Your aunt is a good friend, and I hope that I can count you among my friends. _

_You're an intelligent young man. You've got a good future in front of you, and I guess I want to make sure you don't make the same mistakes your dad made. Life can be hard. There will be times when you're at the top, and everyone else is below you. Then the platform slips, and you're on the bottom with everyone looking down at you wondering what happened. _

_If you make a mistake, learn from it. Remember that failing is when you stop trying. Don't sell yourself short or make decisions that sound good right now, but may cost too much later. _

_You're at an age where you should start making the rules for your life. Every man needs a good set of rules he lives by. I'd like to suggest a couple. These are some of my rules, and I'll not give you an order for them, because that's something you need to come up with on your own._

_Never waste good. It's better to ask forgiveness than permission. If someone thinks they have the upper hand, break it. If you want something, follow it. Take care of family. Never second guess yourself in a relationship or in life. Your gut will tell you, and trust your gut._

_Your aunt and I have talked about you a lot. She's concerned about you finishing school, and I have to admit that I am, too. So here is my solution. I'm paying for your last couple of years. Don't worry, I've got it. You can pay me back like you paid her back. _

_You paid as you could with no pressure. You worked as you could, keeping what you needed to live, and sent her whatever was left. She told me she'd sent it back a couple of times when she knew you really couldn't afford to make a payment. I'll do the same. _

_Well, I guess I've used what Abby and Tony would call my word quota for the month, so I guess I'll go. Can't think of anything else to say, anyway._

_Good luck, Joseph._

_Gibbs_

Joseph's eyes were moist by the time he finished. Gibbs' business card was inside, with his home address neatly printed on the back.

Smiling through his tears, the young man picked up a pen and paper and began writing two letters. He'd missed writing two letters these past four years. His hands flew across the pages as he wrote to his aunt, telling her about Gibbs letter to him, and asking if she'd be upset if he accepted Gibbs' offer.

His second letter was started three times. The first two times, he crumpled them before he started again. The third try finally looked right. It began with _Dear Uncle Gibbs_.

Four days later, Sam sat at Jack's table reading a letter from her nephew. Tears ran down her face as she read of Jethro's offer for his schooling. Jack rubbed her shoulder as he walked past, not wanting to invade her privacy, but wanting to let her know he was there.

She caught his hand and asked him to sit. She showed him the letter, and he smiled. This was the Leroy he knew and had lost with Shannon and Kelly.

Hours away in his basement, a letter sat on the work table next to a mason jar of bourbon. He'd only read it once, but certain phrases kept popping into his head, the most prominent one being "Uncle Gibbs". He liked the sound of it.

And thus began a steady stream of letters. Gibbs found himself writing quick notes while he ate his lunch, sometimes talking on the phone with one while he wrote to the other. He read the letters he received late at night when he had gotten home.

He'd not understood when Sam had talked about the letters before, but he understood her now. He could tell her anything, get any news from Joseph, and she confided in him. Her words, her choice of words, and how long she wrote told him almost as much as what she penned.

Two weeks of letters while the West burned with the upheaval still happening where she once called home, and he was addicted to writing and reading letters. They still talked every day on the phone, but he found those letters were something tangible. Something real. And he loved it.


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: Don't own it!

Note: Thanks to my amazing beta, Headbanger! LOVE YOU! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: Just another note to say that if I missed responding to you in the FFN mixup, I'm sorry, but I read your reviews and am thankful that you took the time!

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"_Di-No-zzo! With me!" Gibbs walked quickly past the bullpen, knowing his second would follow him. He pushed the elevator button, and as he waited for it to come, Tony caught up to him._

"_What's going on, Boss?" Gibbs just smirked and rocked back on his heels for a moment. The door opened, and they stepped inside. _

_Gibbs hit the button almost as soon as the door closed. Tony leaned back against the wall. Gibbs leaned opposite of him after a moment._

"_You know, Boss, if this is about me asking if Sam…"_

"_Nothing to do with Sam." Gibbs smiled, which made Tony nervous. When he could sense Tony's nervousness grow to the point of wall-climbing, he spoke again. "It's to do with you and me, and your team out there."_

"_Boss, I don't know what I did, but…" _

"_Tony!" Gibbs reached out and tapped the younger man's head. "You've done a good job, that's what you've done."_

_Tony smiled as Gibbs' words sank in. _

"_Really? You're not upset about anything? You've been so quiet, well, more than usual, and we were all worried." _

"_Nothing's wrong, but things are going to change." He watched as his seconds' face fell. "We've both been promoted."_

"_Promoted?" Tony squeaked. His eyes were wide, and he was standing tall, no longer leaning. "Boss, I don't want to move."_

"_You don't have to, not unless you want to find a better apartment or buy a house."_

"_Well, how, then? There's no team without a leader here."_

"_Yes, there is." _

"_Which one? I've not heard anything about anyone leaving." Gibbs took a breath._

"_I'm not going to be the MCRT lead agent anymore, Tony. You are."_

"_Boss! Why? The scandal? We can prove…"_

"_No, Tony. Not the scandal, and I'll be around." He leaned forward, smiling as he spoke. "SecNav needs someone to help get NCIS through the last few bumps of trouble. I'm his man." Tony looked confused for a moment. _

"_Director Gibbs." Tony grinned. "I like it."_

That had been two weeks ago. At first, Tim and Ziva had groaned and expected Tony to be overbearing and annoying, but they were thrilled to find that he had stepped into his new role with the calm confidence Gibbs always knew he possessed.

Gone was the Tony who called for "campfires" and stole other people's lunches. In his place was a man who cared for his team and made decisions based on a combination of intel and his gut. Were it not for the movie references and threats to superglue Tim to his keyboard, they would have worried.

He had chosen a new probie, and the young man was as nervous as a cat. He'd heard all sorts of stories about how DiNozzo teased and tormented, and he was afraid that the teasing would start any moment. The longer he went without being teased, the more nervous he became.

"McGee!" Tony stood from his desk. "With me." Gibbs watched, amused, as the new MCRT leader and his second strode to the elevator. With a sigh, he went back in to another boring meeting.

Tim was wondering what he'd done to earn a private yelling session when Tony started to chuckle.

"I was thinking of how much our little Pete reminds me of you when you first started."

"Me? He's nothing like me. He's so backwards."

"And you weren't?" Tony scoffed. "Come on, Timmy." Tony tapped his head playfully. "You know I teased you to make you stand up for yourself."

"You were just mean half the time, Tony."

"Perhaps, but what did you learn?" A slow smile spread across Tim's face, and to Tony's delight, Timmy the Prankster was born.

He started the next morning by calling Pete Probie. He followed it up by taking credit for information it was obvious Pete had found. As the young man looked angrily at Tim, Tony winked to his second and said,

"Good job, Pete."

"Boss, I…"

"Save it, Tim."

"How does he do that?" Ziva just laughed, thinking back on stories she'd heard from Abby. She was going to enjoy this.

#########################

"Hey, Sam." Gibbs smiled after she greeted him. "How are you?"

"I'm doing good. Jack's a hoot." He could hear his dad shout some defense for himself in the background. "How are you?"

"I'm good. Got something to discuss with you, though."

"That doesn't sound good."

"Well, I need your input on decisions regarding that whole mess."

"Alright. Shoot." She listened as he told her of the charges she could press against Carol and ZNN. She heard about the charges already filed against the woman, and how he intended to sue, if only to clear the reputation of NCIS and himself. He suggested she do the same, and she reluctantly agreed.

"Oh, and I talked to Sally."

"Yeah, how's she doing? How's Aaron?" Sam giggled, and Gibbs could see her in his mind.

"She hit Phyllis."

"No." He started to laugh. He'd have to call Tobias and get the skinny on it.

"Oh, yeah. Aaron said she gave her a fat lip and black eye." The two friends chatted for a bit longer, and Sam decided to call him on something.

"You, sir, have something else, and you're not saying it." Gibbs sighed.

"Yeah." She waited, motioning with her hand, making Jack chuckle. Even from miles away, she was good for his son. "Harrison Jones wants an interview with you." He heard her suck in her breath.

"Before you threaten to skin me, I've not said yes. He doesn't know where you are, he doesn't have my dad's number, so he'll not show up there. He's just asking."

"Why? He's done so much, and he's talked to people who know me. You've told me all of that. So why does he want to talk to me?"

"Besides you catching his eye with the human interest story of the decade?" He chuckled. "He told me the people are almost screaming for an interview. People want to see the woman who's captured their hearts." He could hear her breath starting to come faster. "Don't decide now, but people are waking up to how much prejudice is still present. Your story is sending shockwaves through America."

He gave her a moment. Her breath was still fast, and he asked her to give the phone to Jack, who had already moved to be by her side. He took it and greeted his son.

"Hey, Jack. Just told her Jones wants an interview. I don't want her to decide now, and I'm ok with whatever she chooses."

"This is too much for her, Leroy. She's…"

"She's strong, Dad. Unbelievably strong, and I know this is a lot to ask. Just help her stay calm, and she can take a few days to decide." Sam motioned for the phone, and Jack handed it over.

"If I do this, will you be there with me?" Her voice trembled.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Later that evening over a dinner of dirty rice, Jack and Sam talked about the interview.

"I don't want to be in front of that many people."

"They've heard your story, Sweetie." Jack patted her hand. "Even here in this little town, people are talking about it." Her eyes flew wide.

"Do they know I'm here?"

"No. When I got asked who my guest was, I told the busybody that it was one of my sons' friends who needed a place to recoup after being sick." He grinned. "They asked if you were contagious, and I said I wasn't sure." He shrugged. "I'm not sick yet." Sam laughed.

"You think I should do it?"

"I think you should do what you decide." He paused. "However, I do think that since your story has lit a fire under people to help stop prejudice in their own areas, that it'll be a great ending to the series. Give people a chance to see the pretty lady that got them to move." Sam rolled her eyes.

"Jack." He held up his hands, chuckling.

"Just saying the truth."

"I look in the mirror every morning, Jackson Gibbs."

"Yeah, but you never look at yourself as we see you. We see what's inside so much clearer than we see the shell."

"Are you trying to make me blush?"

"Nope." The old man grinned. "I just succeeded."

#############################

Sam took another day to think it through, and then called Jethro. They discussed how they'd go about the interview, and he mentioned going to a city with a real studio for the interview. She agreed, only if he absolutely promised he'd not make her go all over the place. He grinned as he agreed. He was going to have fun showing her around her first city. He'd just not make her go all over. They'd miss the bad spots while hitting the historical spots.

"And Jethro?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"We're driving, right? No planes?"

"No, Sam. No planes."

##################################

"Harrison Jones."

"Hello, Mr. Jones, this is Jethro Gibbs again."

"Oh, Director! Thanks for calling me back so quickly." Gibbs rolled his eyes. It had been two days.

"She's agreed to an interview, but she's really nervous."

"That's alright. We'll keep it low key." He paused. "How is she? I mean, how is she really doing? I've heard the political answers that she's safe and doing well, but I'd like to ask, human to human, how is she?" Gibbs sighed.

"She has her moments. She's incredibly strong, and she has a faith and hope inside unlike anyone else I've ever met." He paused, and Harrison nearly spoke. "For everything that has happened, she's doing well. She's doing her best to live in a modern world filled with electronic devices and absent of animals." He chuckled. "This would probably kill a lesser woman. Sam? She's just rolling along with it."

"From the people I've spoken with, she's one special lady."

"Yep. Now we just gotta get her back on a farm somewhere."

"She has no desire to return to her home?"

"No. Would you?"

The newscaster had never thought of it. He'd assumed she'd come home to the farm he'd been out to visit with Sally and Aaron. It had nearly radiated with peace, and he'd imagined how hard it would be to leave it. He'd never considered that when she'd pulled out from the drive that day, it was the last time she'd see her beloved farm. The idea sat on him like a weight in his heart.

#############################

Gibbs sat in the back of his required SUV. His body guards sat in front chatting, and once or twice he sighed. This was the biggest drawback to being the Director. He had taken the entire weekend off, and was looking forward to spending time with his Sam. He smirked. _My Sam._

He spent his time in the car thinking about her. How he felt about her. She could easily be his best friend. She understood him, he understood her, and that suited him fine. She was by far the least demanding person he'd ever met. While she could make her wishes known, she didn't do it in a forceful way, but in a way that made him comfortable. A way that made him realize he could do something different without her anger being a reward.

He admitted to himself that he'd not be willing to continue his life without her. Or Joseph, as the young man had taken a firm root in his heart. But he wasn't sure he was in love with her. Just as she was the most intense and intriguing person he'd ever met, their relationship was the same.


	30. Chapter 30

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to my amazing beta, Headbanger Rockstar! LOVE YOU! Ptbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: Just a reminder that this story is OOC. Also, I've never been to a big city, so I'm asking people, so if I get something wrong, tell me nicely. Lol I'm a goat-herder. We don't do cities. Lol

########################################

Much to Jack's delight, Sam had spent most of the morning checking out the windows. A car would pass, and she'd be looking, even though she was trying hard to not seem like she was looking. He finally gave up and teased her, telling her to just call and find out how close he was.

"Oh, God, I'm like some nervous teenager." Jack had roared with laughter, and at his nod, she'd tossed the dishtowel she held at him. "You're not supposed to agree with me."

"I can't help it. You're cute." Sam growled and stalked off, turning on the TV. Jack continued smiling as he got the soup he wanted for dinner ready. She'd offered to get it started, but as she'd not be here to eat it, he didn't want to make her do it.

Another hour passed, and they heard a car pull in. Jack shook his head in silent mirth as Sam hung back a little, trying not to show the excitement that shone in her eyes. Leroy walked through the door, and he watched his son's smile go from big to brilliant when he saw her. The older man wondered if the two would ever get over their weird little hang-ups.

"Hey, Jack."

"Leroy, how was your drive?"

"Good, except I'm still getting used to the body guards." Jack grinned.

"Body guards?" Sam's confusion wasn't hidden in the slightest.

"Yeah. Gotta make sure the director of a federal agency is safe." Sam grinned.

"Then they don't let you out in snow storms?"

"Shut up, woman." Gibbs growled playfully, and Jack rolled his eyes. Yep, the old Leroy was back. He wasn't a bit surprised when the two hugged tightly.

"So, how soon do you two need to get on the road?"

"In a few minutes. We're headed to New York, and Abby's gonna meet us there."

"Abby? That's great!" Sam's smile grew. "Is she going to be staying with us?"

"No, she's gonna have to go back to work, but she's gonna help us shop."

"Shop?" Jack smiled. This woman was so innocent in so many ways.

"Yep. Gotta have something to go on TV with." Sam's eyes widened slightly.

"Jethro, I can't go on TV." She looked down at herself.

"Why not?"

"I'm fat." She was being completely serious, and he tried, he really did. The laugh escaped him before he could help it. And his stomped toes paid the price.

##############################

Once they were on the road, his protection detail was slightly quieter than before, obviously trying to hear while not hearing their boss' conversation. He rolled his eyes and almost said something to them, but Sam touched his hand and shook her head. They held a silent conversation that seemed to fuel more questions, but they didn't realize that.

When their conversation became verbal again, they were clear onto places to shop. The men in front exchanged a look, dumbfounded. Their boss had a reputation of having a good dose of ESP, but to have two of them in the car was almost worrisome.

"I have no idea where to even start looking for something, Gibbs."

"Well, we're going to hit the mall."

"I went to a mall once."

"Once, huh?" He was constantly learning just how remote her entire life had been.

"Yep, the one in Cheyenne. I was there for a goat show one year."

"This one will be quite a lot larger than the one in Cheyenne."

"Really? That place had like, twenty stores." Jethro just chuckled. He'd not tell her how big the place was. She'd freak out, and he wanted an un-panicked Sam.

They drove for hours, just catching up. There was a connection and ease between them that the detail was trying hard to figure out. Gibbs phone rang, and he answered.

"Gibbs."

"Hey!" Abby's excited voice rang out through his earpiece, and he put it on speaker so Sam could talk.

"Hi, Abby!"

"Sam! How are ya, Ma'am?" Sam rolled her eyes.

"I'm doing great! I'm so excited that you're gonna meet us up there!"

"Of course! We're gonna hit 5th Avenue, and all of the best tourist spots, and we'll go to Macy's, and…"

"Abbs," Gibbs voice held a gentle warning.

"Whoops! Getting carried away." Sam chuckled.

"I'm getting excited, and we'll have to find something that fits well."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning she just had the epiphany that she's fluffy." Gibbs smirked and ducked as Sam hit his shoulder. He caught her hand and held it while she rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue.

"Did you just hit the Bossman?"  
>"None of your business, Abby." Gibbs growled, and Sam laughed outright. The detail exchanged glances. There was no way anyone else would believe this conversation happened.<p>

The three of them chatted for a few more minutes until a friendly argument broke out over where to have lunch. Abby was going to meet them, and she and Gibbs had different ideas on where the best Chinese food was found.

"But, Gibbs, you never let me pick anymore."

"And I'm not going to today, either." Abby huffed.

"You don't listen anymore."

"I never did." Sam smirked, and piped into the argument.

"You listen." Gibbs looked over at her. "Like you've got flannel in your ears."

"This coming from a woman who's as vicious as a marshmallow with everyone else." Abby laughed.

"Oh, hush, Flannel Ears."

"Bite me, Marshmallow." Twin howls of laughter erupted from the front seat.

##############################

They had lunch at the restaurant Abby chose. Sam teased Gibbs about being a pushover with women.

"Yeah. That's why the three divorces."

"Aw, Bossman." Abby hugged him. "You know we love you."

"Yeah. That's just because the two of you bring out the worst in me." Abby aw'd while Sam rolled her eyes.

Their security detail stood off to the side, not sure of what to make of this new side to their Director.

"He's not himself."

"No, I've never seen him this…talkative."

"Think they're, you know…"

"I think that if we think they're more than friends, and ever say it, we're toast."

"Even when it seems painfully obviously?"

"Especially then. Until an official statement comes out, we know nothing."

"It'll be obvious, though."

"No, he's a politician. He can hide with the best of them. I think we should get used to two sides of Director Gibbs. The Director, and the man he is with her." Indeed, they'd never seen their new Director this relaxed.

#############################

Sam and Abby walked down 5th Avenue together. The older woman's eyes were huge as she took in the sights. Traffic was heavy, people crowded the sidewalks, and were it not for Abby's arm through hers, she would have been terrified.

Gibbs followed closely with his security detail, but he wanted to give the girls time. Shopping wasn't really his thing, but if Sam started to panic, he didn't want to be more than a few steps away. He was glad no one really recognized him, as several photographers loitered around, hoping for a shot of anyone famous.

Once they were inside Macy's, Sam stopped, her mouth gaping. She'd never seen a building this big before, let alone a single store. Abby shot a smile back to her boss.

"Come on, Sam. Let's shop!" She drug Sam to the Women's Fashions where she flagged down a sales-person. The woman smiled benignly, looking at the poorly dressed, rough handed stout woman.

"How can I help you?"

"Well, this is her first trip to the city, and we're wanting to get her some new, pretty clothes."

"Great!" She smiled at Sam for real this time.  
>"Where are you from?" Sam told her the name of her little town, and the woman's eyes widened.<p>

"Isn't that the town that's been on the news?" Then she gasped. "Are you Samantha Walking Tall?"

Sam paled, and Gibbs stepped forward, his face stern.

"We really need to keep her being here quiet. She's not used to people, as she's never been to a city before, and we don't want to advertise that she's here."

"Oh, absolutely." She nodded vigorously before turning back to Sam, her face beaming. "My name is Patti. Let's go find you some outfits."

Sam told her she just needed something to wear to an interview, and Patti nearly laughed. Abby contradicted her, claiming that she needed an entire wardrobe.

Three hours and ten outfits later, Sam was exhausted and overwhelmed. She'd seen more dresses and pantsuits and jeans with expensive tags than she'd ever seen anywhere. Most of them Abby and Patti had convinced her to try on.

Patti and Abby brought out a parade of purses, all of which seemed huge to Sam.

"Really, I only carry my wallet. Why would I need a purse?" Abby laughed.

"Trust me. You need a purse." She held one up. "Try this one first." Sam grabbed it, and Abby smirked.

"No! You have to hold it like this." And she showed her friend.

"That's how I held it."

"No, you held it like it was a dead skunk."

"I've never carried one of these." Gibbs was chuckling behind his hand, doing his best to not get into trouble. She glared at him. "Don't laugh. Or I'll make you carry it." His detail nearly bit through their lips.

Twenty minutes later, they got to the checkout, and Sam about died at the cost. $4,000.00 for clothes. Her eyes filled with tears, and Gibbs quickly handed over his credit card and ushered her outside to the car his driver, Paul, had already pulled to the door.

"Is she going to be alright?" Patti was really worried. "I've never seen anyone get that upset."

"She's just overwhelmed, and I don't think she's ever been to a store as big or nice as this one. Things are a lot more expensive than she expected."

"That poor lady." Patti shook her head. "At least she has you four as friends." Abby beamed at her, signed Gibbs' receipt, and carried out Sam's bags.

Out in the car, Gibbs held Sam close, murmuring comfort.

"What's wrong, Sam?"

"That's so much, and…" She started to panic.

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh." He kissed her hair. "It's ok. I've got you. Breathe with me, ok?" She nodded, and when Abby joined them with her bags, she signed that she would meet them over at the hotel. Gibbs nodded over Sam's head.

"Sir?" Paul hated to ask, but he needed to.

"Go ahead." He released Sam for a moment. "We gotta get belted."

"Ok." They put on their belts, and as soon as his hands were free, he had hers in his.

She was calm and together again once they got to their hotel. Gibbs had reserved a suite for them, as it would have been a security nightmare to keep them in separate rooms, and he didn't want to leave her by herself in case she had a nightmare.

Jack had told him of several times that he'd woken to her crying in some nightmare. The older man had always talked to her and gotten her awake and settled, for which he was grateful.

They checked in, and Gibbs called Abby with their room number. They got into their room, and she wandered a bit, looking around. Gibbs stood by with a tender smile on his face.

"What?"  
>"Just enjoying watching you look."<p>

"You're such a goof." He grunted. When she sat on the couch, he joined her. "Thanks for today."

"You're welcome." He bumped shoulders with her. "You did good with all of that noise and bustle."

"You and Abby kept me from going nuts." She touched his hand, not sure if she should, but he took hers when it brushed against his. Both let out a sigh, and when Abby came in later, she snapped a picture on her phone of them cuddled up on the couch.

Gibbs woke first, and carefully got himself off of the couch without waking her. He guided her down until she lay on her side, and put one of the pillows under her head. He kissed her cheek and walked to the table where his security detail and Abby sat.

"Afternoon." He spoke quietly. "How long did we sleep?"

"Not long." Abby grinned at him. "Only about half an hour for you." She looked over to where Sam lay sleeping. "So, how long has that been going on?"

"Nothing's going on, Abby." He sighed. "She doesn't need any more rumors in her life. We're friends, and while we may hug, or hold hands, or I may calm her down from a panic attack, that's all there is. And I expect you to respect that." He looked at his detail. "All of you."

The four sat quietly chatting for another half hour when Gibbs decided to wake her up.

"She's tired, Bossman."

"But if she sleeps too long now, she'll never sleep tonight." He walked over and sat on the edge of the couch. One arm rested on the back of the couch, and the other combed through her hair. "Hey, Sam." He kept his voice quiet, so he didn't startle her. "Time to wake up." Her eyes flickered open and she smiled up at him.

"Didn't realize I'd fallen asleep."

"Neither did I until I woke up." He kept his voice low enough that the three at the table couldn't make out his words. "Feel better?"

"Loads." She laced her fingers with his. "You're a good friend, Jethro Gibbs." He shrugged.

"I try." He leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. "Come on. Let's get some dinner, huh?"

"And you accuse me of only thinking with my stomach."

"No, that's Tony." Sam's laugh lit up the room.

###############################

Abby sat behind Sam helping her braid her hair.

"You should get it cut. You've got some pretty serious split ends, and if you get rid of those, your hair will grow faster and be stronger. Because, I gotta tell ya, your hair is beautiful." Sam chuckled. "Seriously! I saw a picture of you when your hair was still black, and whoa, baby."

Gibbs rolled his eyes and chuckled.

"My hair hasn't been solid black in years." Sam laughed. "I had a severe problem with anemia, and my hair changed, and it's never gone back to black."

"Well, you should totally dye it."

"I'll think about it."

"Hey, Gibbs, do you think we could get the concierge to send up a hairstylist and a manicurist?"

"Hair, yes." A fondness crept into his eyes. "But the nails, no. I want her hands to show how hard she works." Sam blushed.

"My hands are so rough, Gibbs. They're awful."

"No, they're one of your best features." She looked at her hands, disbelief on her face. For a moment, they forgot anyone else was in the room. He took her hand, inspecting it.

"You know what I see when I look at these hands?" She shook her head. "I see hands that came out in a blizzard to rescue strangers. I see hands that dragged me in to safety, and then worked to keep me alive. I see hands that worked hard for twenty years so her husband would have his future when he came home from serving his country. I see hands that wrote a love letter every single day to that man." He stopped and cleared his throat. "I see hands that have helped, and given, and loved, and not thought once about the cost." He met her eyes. "Your hands are marvelous."

Twenty minutes later found a hair stylist showing up and giving a nice trim to Sam's hair. Abby tried to talk her into dying her hair, but Sam wasn't sure, so she decided against it. Gibbs watched as her hair fell to the floor, and part of him was sad. He loved her hair. Split ends be damned.


	31. Chapter 31

Disclaimer: Don't own it. (sigh)

Note: Thanks to my AMAZING beta, Headbanger Rockstar! LOVE YOU!

############################

Dinner was long over, and Abby was helping Sam figure out which of her new outfits she'd wear tomorrow for the interview. The first she'd chosen was deemed unfit by the bubbly Goth.

"You look great in that dress, Sam, really you do. But it's just not… you." Sam groaned and let her head drop back.

"The only thing I have worn in the past several years is jeans and t-shirts. I don't even know what clothes that look like "me" look like."

"Seriously?" Abby looked surprised. "Well, we've got some great stuff here, so let's look, and then we'll figure out your hair for tomorrow."

"Abby." Sam groaned out her friends' name. "She just left, acting like my hair would be a simple blow dry and hairspray in the morning." Abby bit back a grin at the frustrated woman. "I've never done this before! I don't know how to do that!"

"Ok, first thing, calm down. Second thing, take a breath. Third thing, no, forget the third thing. I'll get Gibbs to get her back up here in the morning to do your hair for you."

"Ok, so one problem down." Sam took a deep breath. "Which of these do you think I should wear?" Abby beamed.

"Why, the black pantsuit, of course."

"She's not wearing black tomorrow, Abby." Gibbs shouted this out from where he sat on the couch with a book.

"But, Gibbs, this suit is really nice!"

"Yeah, it is. Have her try on that blue one again."

"She doesn't have a blue suit."

"Yes, she does." Gibbs fairly growled as he stalked into the bedroom. "This. This is blue."

"No, Gibbs. It's periwinkle."

"Fine. Periwinkle." The girls both shrugged.

"Ok, periwinkle it is." While Abby pushed Gibbs from the room, Sam chose a navy blue shirt, which made Abby cringe at first, but once she was dressed, Abby grinned.

"Woah. That is seriously nice." She motioned for Sam to turn around. "Go show Gibbs."

Sam walked out and the three men in the living room took notice. The color suited her. Her skin tone seemed darker and her eyes popped from her face in large pools of liquid brown. Gibbs stood and circled around her. He nodded, smirking once in Abby's direction.

"Yeah, yeah. You told me so." She clapped her hands. "Ok, so you've got four new pairs of shoes. Let's see which ones look the best."

#########################################################

Sam and Gibbs walked into the room his detail had already cleared. Harrison stood from the chair where he sat and greeted them. He was all smiles, hoping he could relax the nervous woman before him. Her lower lip was caught in her teeth, and she looked at the camera and lights with obvious fear.

"Hello, Mrs. Walking Tall. I'm Harrison Jones. It's a pleasure to meet you." He extended his hand, and she took it. He felt the slight tremors and sweaty palms.

"Mr. Jones." Her voice was low and pleasant. "How are you?" Her smile was tentative.

"I'm good." He shook Gibbs' hand. "Director, good to see you." Gibbs just nodded. "I was wondering, since the story of how you met and the blizzard has had so many rumors associated with it, and we're all eager to clear personal reputations, as well as the reputation of NCIS, I was hoping to have a small portion where I could ask you both questions regarding that incident."

"Sam, what do you think?" She met Gibbs' eyes, and he saw the beginnings of panic.

"Hey, it's ok." She nodded. "This isn't going to be like the last reporter, ok? Harrison wants to help you." Another nod. Her breath began to slow, and Gibbs breathed a sigh of relief.

"Now, Mrs. Walking Tall, let's take a moment to talk about what I'm going to ask you, ok?"

"Ok." Her voice shook.

"I heard about how Carol verbally attacked you. I'm so sorry that happened. Are you afraid of interviewing with me?" His eyes shone with somber sincerity.

"A little. I'm just nervous." She tugged on the sleeves of her jacket.

"That's ok, and that's why we're going to talk for a bit before we do the interview, ok?" She nodded. "Good, that way, there's no surprises, and if you don't want to answer a question, I can skip it. Does that sound good?" She nodded.

"Good. Let's go sit over here. This is where we'll do the interview." Three comfortable arm chairs sat close together. Between them was a round coffee table. He sat and motioned to the chairs. "Go ahead and stay here for now, Director Gibbs."

Harrison began asking her questions, pulling the story from her gently. He got the important information he wished to showcase regarding her past and her marriage. He then told her of what he found when he checked into her practices of giving, and showed her letters from children he'd received. To his surprise, she remembered most of the children, and even knew what colleges some of them were attending. He asked her what motivated her to invest so heavily in children, and to his surprise, her eyes filled with tears.

"Ellis and I wanted children, but I was unable to carry full-term. After our last miscarriage, we decided that we would pour ourselves into the children already here. Our nieces and nephews, children who lived near us, and those we knew in the goat industry." She had picked at her fingernail as she answered. "The number of kids grew, and I realized that perhaps there was a reason we weren't blessed with our own." She wiped her eye as Gibbs rubbed her back gently. "There are so many children who need just a little more love and attention, and if we had our own, we would have missed out on seeing all of these wonderful little lives grow and blossom into what they were meant to be."

Harrison sat across from her, his next question completely forgotten. There were few people in his entire career that he had interviewed who operated not out of trying to make some huge social change, but simply out of a need to love others. This was one of those rare people.

############################################

"Tonight we conclude the series we began nearly three weeks ago. We have shown examples throughout the nation of prejudice. We have also shown examples of people working together and overcoming prejudice." He turned slightly, looking at a new camera.

"What began as a story of the violation of human rights focusing on one woman has become a story that has impacted the nation for good. We received calls daily telling of everyday heroes across America who have been helping to end racism in their neighborhoods.

"Community leaders have called and requested help to ensure that this does not happen in their cities and towns, and some schools have instituted anti-bullying safety plans." He paused. "Those of you who have followed this story from its beginning will remember the story of Samantha Walking Tall, the lonely goat farmer from the plains." He turned and smiled to Sam. She smiled in return, and the interview began.

Unseen by anyone on camera, Gibbs sat in her direct line of vision. When she got nervous, he offered her a smile, allowing her to draw strength from his presence.

Hundreds of miles away, Sally walked into the diner she once frequented. With purposeful steps, she walked behind the counter, daring Phyllis to stop her. She turned off the football game and flipped through the channels until she got to the station she was looking for.

"What began as a story of the violation of…." A loud shout went up as her neighbors protested the change. Sally stood on the counter and shouted louder.

"Listen to her! She has a right to tell her story, and you assholes need to hear it!" Fornell stood and agreed. His presence acted like a bucket of cold water on the protest. This man was slightly scary. They settled back into their seats, unwillingly.

Their town had been dragged through the mud, their names besmirched in the media. The men had discussed multiple ways of "making this up" to Sam when and if she returned. The only thing they could see was a woman making trouble. They all thought she should have just shut up and taken it. After all, what were a few goats? They'd not killed her, but that may change if she ever showed back up.

#################################

"Mrs. Walking Tall, I've been told that you suffered another loss on the day of your husband's funeral. Could you tell me what happened?" Sam met Gibbs' eyes and began to tell the story of coming home with his flag sitting in the front seat beside her and finding her four slaughtered goats.

She had tears in her eyes by the time she was finished, and thankfully, they went to a commercial break. Gibbs crossed the room and sat by her, grounding her once more.

"You're doing great, Marshmallow." She chuckled through her tears. "Here." He handed her a kleenex, and she wiped her eyes.

"Great. They put make-up on me." She looked at the smudged cloth. "Is it everywhere?" Gibbs wiped her cheek and shook his head.

"Nope. You're good." Harrison handed her a bottle of water, encouraging her to have a drink.

"Thanks, Flannel Ears." The reporter laughed.

"Is there a story I should know there?" Sam shook her head.

"No, we were arguing along with Abby, and she and I ganged up on him. I told him he listens like he has flannel in his ears, and he called me as vicious as a marshmallow." Harrison laughed.

"Just friends?" He figured he'd better make sure. Gibbs' eyes narrowed.

"Only friends. Not friends with benefits, or anything else that rumors say."

"Ask the source, that's my deal." He held up his hands in a truce. "No offence meant. It's just a better off-camera question." Gibbs relaxed and nodded.

In Phyllis' diner, people began to think. What if that had been them? The funeral had been the easiest time to attack, as she wasn't there. But what if it had been their wives?

They watched and actually listened as their former neighbor returned to the screen. She told, without extra accusations, including anyone's name, or even giving names when asked, about what had happened to her over the years. They heard her speak of the time she was blamed for the drugs, and of the nasty letter in the paper.

To their shame, Harrison Jones produced police reports and evidence that pointed to her innocence. He showed letters from children across the country that she had freely given goats to, and more than one admitted to a neighbor that she had given them animals over the years, whether they were for food or dairy or children in a club, she gave freely and often to them. Their crimes of hate began to sink in.

"Mrs. Walking Tall, I'd like to talk with you about the event that began this last leg of your journey. The story of a carload of people who were stranded and in need of help." Inside the diner, silence fell. "I'd like to introduce one of those people today." He stood and welcomed his new guest.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Director of NCIS, which is the Naval Criminal Investigative Service." Fornell smirked into his coffee cup at the collective gasps around him.

"Yes, I was going to the barn to do chores, and I thought I heard a horn. It kept blowing, and I figured that a horn meant someone was out there."

"So you went? No questions? No surety of someone being there?" Sam shook her head.

"No, I mean, I've been in a lot of blizzards, and never once has the wind sounded like a horn." Harrison chuckled. "So I hitched up Jag, and we headed out."

"Jag?"

"My horse." Gibbs grinned. "He wasn't happy, but the treats had him willing to go."

"I see you smiling, Director Gibbs."

"All we saw was these huge teeth from some animal and a voice shouting over the wind." He chuckled. "My MCRT leader opened the door, and according to Tony, the horse licked him like a dog."

"Oh, he did not." The three of them laughed.

"Describe to me what it was like to be rescued in such a manner, Director Gibbs." Her hometown listened as he described the long, cold ride to the barn, and their surprise at the short woman who told them to warm up in her milk room and then fed them dinner.

He and Harrison chatted like old friends over coffee about the days they spent at the farm, Gibbs even admitting to his life-altering choice to go out into the night. They spoke of Sam guiding his companions through the process of saving his life, and how she worked along with them, despite her own exhaustion. He told his version of everything, leaving out only a few things.

Sam sat silently, shaking her head a few times.

"You disagree with his assessment?" Sam smiled and shoved Gibbs playfully with her elbow.

"He's making me sound like some sort of hero." Harrison chuckled. "I'm a farmer. I heard a horn and found who was making the noise. He had a problem, and I knew how to fix it. That's all."

Harrison smiled gently. "The rest of America would disagree, Mrs. Walking Tall." She blushed.

There was a commercial break, and they all braced themselves for what would come next. The next session dealt with the rumors and clearing names. Sam stood and stretched.

"You ok?" Gibbs stood as well, working out a kink in his neck.

"Yeah. You?"

"I'm good." Harrison gave them a two minute warning, and they settled back into their seats for the final segment.

Sally and Aaron sat with now silent neighbors as Harrison Jones talked about the rumors that had been spread by her neighbors. Gibbs discussed how NCIS was involved, and said that there would be slander and libel charges against many of the people in the town, and discussed damage control being done by the Navy, more specifically NCIS. As the people heard the charges they could have brought against them, shame mixed with anger.

The small island of hatred wouldn't change overnight, but the wheels of change had begun. Sam announced that she would be looking for a new location to have her farm, and that she would be staying somewhere closer to her new friends.

"It must be hard to have been forced from your home by lies and false accusations." She nodded. She tried to speak once, only to have her voice catch. She held up a hand for a moment, and Harrison waited, his face a mask of concerned sincerity.

"It's not easy, and I'm afraid of it happening again. I'm afraid of people. And that's the worst part of it. I love people, but right now, they scare me." She bit her lip and looked away, embarrassed by her tears.

"This has been an interview with Mrs. Samantha Walking Tall and the Director of NCIS, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. May we all learn from the lessons learned from the horrors she has experienced from hate, and live our lives away from them." Credits ran.

########################

Gibbs waited until he was sure the camera was off, and he drew Sam to him, letting her cry. Her hands curled into his jacket. Harrison watched as the strong woman he'd interviewed showed her heart.

He passed a tissue to Gibbs, who simply held it as he comforted his friend.

"Hey, you did it." She nodded into his chest. "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. You're ok. You did it."

"I was so scared." Harrison could barely hear her.

"I know. But you did so good. You told your story, and you stayed strong."

"I wanna go home."

"I know." They stayed silent for a moment, and then she spoke again, making Harrison tear up himself.

"But I don't know where it is." Gibbs' eyes closed, and he held her tighter.


	32. Chapter 32

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar, my absolutely AMAZING beta! Love you! Ptbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: Graphic violence described, flashback, tissue warning…

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They had returned to their room, changed clothes, and were back out in the living room. Sam's eyes were still puffy, and while Gibbs knew they needed to solve her housing situation, he needed to pull her out of this near-panic depression. He'd not expected the interview to be that hard on her.

He waited a few minutes while she seemed to try pulling herself out, and offered a few suggestions.

"So, I'd go for steak, beer, and poker. You?" He saw gratitude flash through her eyes as she nodded.

Forty minutes later, two rare steaks, complete with potatoes, asparagus, salads that Gibbs griped about her ordering, and large helpings of tapioca pudding. They sat down and started dinner. Conversation flowed easily, and Sam smirked as Gibbs sent Paul out for a six pack of beer.

"Why only six?"

"Well, they can't drink, I don't do more than three, and neither will you." He winked. "Don't care how much you can put away."

"I don't drink that much." She nudged his foot…hard…under the table.

"I've seen you with bourbon." A napkin hit his head.

"You're not being nice."

"You wouldn't know what to do with me if I was nice."

"True. Speaking of nice," she nodded to the protection detail. "You've not been nice and let them have dinner yet. And it's almost seven."

"What do you suggest? They go shopping and you'll bake them cookies?"

"No, Flannel Ears. I'm suggesting you let them order pizza or whatever. Then, they can play with us while they eat."

"More people to win from? I can handle that."

"Oh, no, Leroy," his eyes widened when she used his first name, "I can take all of you. And I intend to."

"You're on, Samantha." Her narrowed eyes had him laughing.

#################

An hour later found dinner cleared away, a new deck of cards opened, two chilled beers were opened, and four people sat with closed expressions, trying desperately to find one another's tells.

To Gibbs surprise, Sam settled into a cool, calm, no nonsense player. But she'd found something that he was unaware of doing. She was kicking his ass.

Frank folded first. He'd started with the same twenty peanuts as everyone else. Sam had cleared him out in only six hands. Paul had a sparse three peanuts, which he was currently debating calling Sam with. The young man sat back and carefully observed her. _Damn. She's good._ He placed his bet.

Gibbs had decided to hold, and he looked at his pile. He had won enough to have his original twenty. With a lay down of cards, he grimaced. He had twenty, but she had the rest.

"Where did you learn to play like this?" Sam laughed.

"My dad. He loved a good poker game."

"I can see that. I'm gonna have to take you to Vegas sometime."

"I'll make it easier on you."

"How?" Gibbs was skeptical to say the least.

"You have a tell."

"No I don't."

"Yes, you do." Sam grinned. "You take a sip of beer if you have a good hand, but a bad hand has you taking two." He sat back and shook his head.

"I'm not gonna win, am I?"

"Probably not. But you have to admit, it's fun." The game continued long into the night, as Gibbs was aware of his tell, he stopped giving himself away at every turn.

Even with him knowing his tell, he still lost. She fairly giggled as she cracked open one of her winnings and chewed happily. He snagged one and amid teasing and pushing, they finished the pile of peanuts. The conversation eventually turned serious.

"Thanks for being there with me today, Gibbs." She spoke while she stacked peanut shells.

"Like I said, wouldn't have missed it."

"I know." She smiled. "But I'll still say thanks." He smiled back, his head ducking slightly.

"I'll always be here." They sat for a while in companionable silence. This was the beauty of their friendship. Both knew words were nice, but not necessary. Now that the worry was over, they relaxed and simply _were_.

They moved over to the couch and chose a movie. Sam was starting to wind down, but she was nowhere near sleep, and Gibbs wanted her ready to sleep before he let her go to her bed. If she lay in there staring at the ceiling, she'd have her mind racing in no time.

To his amusement, she settled on "The Princess Bride", as she'd never seen it before. They sat laughing at the antics of the Dred Pirate Roberts who wasn't really him, Inigo, and Fezzik. When her head hit his shoulder and stayed there, he woke her up enough to get ready for bed, and then he tucked her in.

He left her door slightly open, wanting to hear if she had a nightmare. He went to his own room, leaving his door at the same angle. The interview had pulled up everything from the past. All of the dead animals, losing her husband, losing her farm, her home. The list went on and on.

Frank was awake, having relieved Paul for his turn of detail. He'd settled into the corner with a book when a scream pierced the air. He jumped up with his gun pulled and raced to Sam's room, only to be pushed aside by his running boss.

"Sam! Sam! Hey! You're safe!" He talked to her while waking her up from her terror. Her fists flew, and Frank and Paul stood helplessly to the side as she fought off some unseen attacker. Gibbs blocked blow after blow until she was awake.

She spoke quickly, mixing her languages. Gibbs sat and soothed her, helping her find her pace again.

"Want to talk about it?" She shook her head. "Sometimes helps." She laid back down, his hand in hers until she was asleep again. He left, settling on the couch. He turned the TV on and watched infomercials until he heard her rustling about again.

Frank moved to enter her room, but Gibbs stopped him. This was his job. He sat by her and woke her, getting her awake this time before she was in a full out panic. This time, she clung to him, weeping as she spoke.

"You know, I really need to learn how to talk like that." He waited until she'd settled a bit to speak.

"I'll teach you." She never lifted her head from his shoulder. "If you can hear the words."

"If?" He chuckled. "You don't have a lot of confidence?"  
>"No." She hugged him tighter. "It's more of a thing I learned from a friend of mine. She's from the country of Georgia, and can't hear the difference between "shirt" and "short". Gets pretty interesting at times, and well, I've never taught anyone." He pressed a kiss to her forehead.<p>

"Then I'll be your guinea pig." He started to leave, but she stopped him.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but, can you stay?" He paused a moment before nodding.

"Scoot over." He settled himself against the headboard, leaning back as he drew her down onto him. In this slouched position, he was able to rub her back, as she was laying on his stomach. He felt her relax, and he allowed himself to drift off to sleep after she did.

Paul checked in a bit later, and he smiled. His stern boss was sound asleep, his head off to the side, propped by a pillow against the headboard. Sam was at an angle, only her head and one shoulder resting on him. Both were snoring.

_The faceless, nameless man stalked toward her, his knife gleaming as it caught the last few rays of the sun. He'd already slit the throats of two goats, warning her of what he'd do to her. She thought she had Ellis' gun in the store room, but it wasn't loaded, and she realized with horror that her box of shells was empty. Ellis had been gone for only a month, and while she wanted to meet him, it wasn't like this…_

Gibbs woke as a fist slammed into his side. He was shocked to see Sam's face contorted with pain and fear. "NO!" Pierced his ears.

He tried to stop the barrage of blows, but only succeeded by flipping her over and holding her down. She continued to scream, and Frank and Paul were at their boss' side, wondering how to help. Paul picked up a glass of water and poured a bit of it on Sam, but it had the opposite effect. She screamed harder, but her eyes opened.

Her face crumpled as all of the fight went out of her. She seemed to withdraw, and Gibbs motioned for the others to leave. They left the door open in case, and stepped out.

"Sam?" Gibbs voice was quiet. "What happened, Hon?"

"I can still feel it." She sobbed, her hand moving to clutch her stomach.

"Feel what?" He put his hand over hers, as if helping her put pressure on the spot would give him answers. She gasped, and he let off with his hand, barely touching her.

"The knife. I can feel it. Like it's still in me." Her words were gasped, and she was pressing hard into herself, as if to stop the bleeding.

"It's not there, Sam. We're in New York, and you're safe." He pulled her hand away. "Can I see?" She nodded, and he lifted her shirt gently. Only two inches above the waist of her jeans was an ugly, jagged scar. It had to be five inches long.

His eyes darkened with anger as he watched her press her hand to it again. She was lost in a world of remembered pain. And he'd brought it all on by asking her to do a damned interview.

"Who did this?"

"I don't know." She wailed into his chest as he tightened his arms around her. "I don't know. He just said I had to die because I was dealing drugs. I wasn't. I promise, I wasn't'."

"Who helped you?"

"Aaron and Sally. They found me." He didn't ask her any more questions, but let her cry out her grief and pain.

Neither of them slept anymore that night. He lay beside her, curled around her as she whispered things that had happened over the last several years since Ellis had died. It seemed that being a single Native American woman in that area was enough to make her the target for every moron around.

The bedroom door remained open, they stayed dressed, and yet they shared moments of emotional intimacy that bonded them in ways a physical connection never could. He consoled her, mentally taking notes, as if he were working on a cold case. There was nothing he could really do at this point, but he wished he could do something.

The only thing he could think of was just what he was doing. And so he stayed, long after the sun came up. He stayed long after their breakfast, ordered by Frank, had gone cold. He stayed and simply held her close.


	33. Chapter 33

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Still OOC. That's not gonna change.

Note: Thanks to my beta, Headbanger Rockstar! Love you! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb! READ ALL NOTES, PLEASE, THEY ARE IMPORTANT THIS TIME! (not my usual jokes and random stuff)

Note : I have a no-bullying policy. If you flame (that is a mean review that is NOT constructive criticism), I will block you immediately. This is a site for FUN, not for rudeness, not for bullying, and not for making other feel bad. If necessary, I will lash back. Reviews are what people look at to see if they want to read a story. If something is completely mean or off base about a story in a review, it's not fair. TO ANYONE. Several people have had to pull their stories from bullying, and I will fight back to keep it from happening to anyone else. We're all here for fun, to share in our love of NCIS, and if you have a complaint, USE A Private Message. That is what they are for.

Note**: To everyone who leaves pleasant reviews**, even if they're only one or two words, THANKS! I appreciate the time you take to read, think of a response, and write me a nice note! Love you guys and girls! And to the ones who leave the most amazing and incredible reviews (you know who you are)… THANKS mixed up in a huge HUG!

And now, a note from my beta: This isn't my story, but Goats is my friend, and I am protective-And I'm her beta. I've been looking at some readers' comments, and several of you think that Goats is writing a Mary Sue story. Just so we all know-a Mary Sue is a character based on the author, and is the author's way of inserting herself into the story. Just because Goats has experience as a goat farmer, and is writing a story about a goat farmer, that does not make this a Mary Sue story. If she was giving an account of actual events in her life (she's not), or if she was using her real name (she's not), then it could be considered a Mary Sue story. THIS IS NOT A MARY SUE STORY. As her beta, I am carefully going through each chapter and making sure that the characters are believable-There is an OOC warning on this story for a reason. That means the characters may not act the same way you might see them act on the show. But because this is an original story with an original character, and an original situation it is hard to say what the NCIS characters might do in this situation. We all love getting reviews-all of us. And we all love to read and write fanfiction, or else we wouldn't be here. But we have to be respectful to each other, and to each other's creativity because each one of us is different. We have to be nice and respectful to each other-even if we don't like what someone has to say, or we don't like their story. There is no reason for us to be rude-words are all we have here. Please, please, try and remember to be respectful to each other. There is so much abuse going on here on FFN now-and it didn't used to be here. It's very sad, but if we work together, we can fix the problem. We cannot tolerate flamers. Ok I'll shut up now and let you guys get on with the story. :) Thanks! :) Headbanger.

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When Sam rose to shower, Gibbs told her to take her time. He'd be just outside and on the phone. She nodded, closing the bathroom door after choosing some of her old and comfortable clothes over any of the newer. Even her new jeans held no appeal for her.

He had the phone to his ear and dialed before she had the water turn on. He wasn't sure how this call would go, but last night had put so many questions in his mind. So much that he knew had to be answered, and he hoped the people he was calling could help. A cheery voice rang over the line.

"Hi! A number I don't recognize! Is this you, Sam?" Sally bubbled. "I saw you on TV!"

"Hi, no, it's not Sam." He paused a moment. "This is Gibbs."

"Oh, hi, Gibbs. Is she ok? You sound upset." Sally had sobered immediately.

Gibbs went on to describe their night, going into detail about the scar and her screaming. He said how she'd finally opened up and spoken to him, but he needed to know when things happened, and how it was that there was no record. He heard Sally sniff before she answered.

"We went to take her dinner, because she hadn't been eating well, just toast and things like that, and sometimes, she didn't eat at all for days." Sally drew in a shaky breath. "So we started going almost every night with dinner. And she wasn't in the house. She should have been. Aaron went looking for her, and she was…" Sally stopped, and Gibbs could hear her crying.

"Hello? Who is this?" Aaron had just come in, and not knowing the first part of the conversation, only knew his wife was upset. He'd been worried about threats.

"Gibbs."

"What do you want?" He was less than friendly.

"Sam had a bad night, and I was asking about the time she was stabbed." Aaron blew out a breath.

"Bastard, whoever it was, thankfully didn't know how to gut somebody. But they tried." He went on to describe Sam laying on the floor of the storage room. She was still conscious, but in too much pain to cry out for help. She'd heard them pull in, and was trying to get to the door. The trail of blood showed that she'd moved about two feet.

Gibbs closed his eyes as he listened to Aaron give details about making the decision to stitch her there at the farm, versus driving to the emergency room first. Apparently, she had been refused care only days before following a beating which had resulted in possible broken ribs and a bunch of bruises.

"They refused her care? Even with laws making that illegal?"

"Yeah, said she was just looking for attention." Aaron sighed. "She'd driven herself in, and they said that if she could drive, she wasn't that bad."

"How did you find out about it?"

"Sally drove her home. She'd been grocery shopping, and Sam got just out of town when she had to pull over. We went back for her truck a couple of hours later." Gibbs was quiet, and Aaron continued. "She didn't want anybody to stay with her. Said they'd needed to make a point, they'd made it, and now they'd leave her alone. She really believed that."

"When I found her, we didn't want to make sure she died by taking her to town and risking it." He ran his hand through his hair. "She's always kept veterinary supplies. Penicillin, suture, iodine, everything we'd need." He drew in a breath. "Except for pain killers." The man was still deeply affected by his friend's trauma. "We couldn't do anything for the pain." His last words were nearly whispered.

##################################

Sam stepped from the shower feeling clean and far more relaxed. She dressed slowly, wincing once as she brushed against the spot she knew was sore only in her mind. Thanks to Sally and Aaron, it had healed well years ago.

She stepped from the steaming bathroom and into the warm, but far chillier bedroom. A blush spread across her cheeks as she thought of how she gave into weakness last night and cried. Having asked Gibbs to stay with her was even more embarrassing. She hoped he wasn't upset.

She smiled and greeted Frank and Paul. She proceeded to apologize for keeping them awake the night before, and they assured her that she'd been no trouble at all. They'd overheard part of Gibbs' conversation, and knew that there was something going on beyond what they knew. The stormy look on his face had added to the evidence.

She stepped to Jethro's door, seeing it was partially open, and she was going to ask what else he had planned for the day. When she glanced in, he was pacing, his face set and stern. His mouth was drawn to a tight line, and the vein in his neck throbbed. He was pissed. She backed away, terrified to interrupt him. _Shit._

Frank looked up as she crossed the living room, her steps slow and careful, as if afraid of making noise.

"Are you hungry? There's breakfast here." She just shook her head and entered her room, shutting her door. She lay on the bed, facing away from where Jethro had slept. Tears mounted behind her eyes, but she held them back, refusing to let them fall until the pressure from them started a headache.

She had few friends, and last night, her weakness had cost her one. There were times when she wondered why she still lived. Times when everything seemed pointless. This was one of those times.

She thought about calling Sally, but that would mean she'd have to talk, and she wasn't ready for that yet. Sam couldn't believe her stupidity. Her weakness. If she'd stood up for herself at home, they would have stopped using her for their scratching post. If she'd saved money back, she could have moved without having to trouble Gibbs and his father. Her list of perceived failures grew along with the ache behind her eyes.

###############################

In his room, Gibbs got his anger under control. Part of him was glad he wasn't with Fornell. He'd just gotten off of the phone with his friend, and the FBI agent had gotten confessions from a couple of people who were willing to turn states evidence in exchange for lesser charges. Gibbs played the game, and knew this was how it worked, but he didn't want to give ground anywhere.

When he felt he could talk to her without his anger getting in the way, he stepped into the living room. To his surprise, her door was shut. He looked over to his detail, who shook their heads.

"She got to your door, backed up, refused breakfast, and shut herself in there." Paul looked like a deer in headlights. "She looked scared. I don't know why."

Gibbs walked to her door and knocked softly. He thought he heard her answer, but wasn't sure. She heard the door creak open, and his quiet footfalls as he crossed the floor. The bed dipped, and he watched as she buried her head in the pillow. He put his hand on her shoulder. She flinched.

"Sam?" He kept his voice low, doing his best to keep his growing anger back.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled something else into her pillow, but that was all he understood. Her next words worried him.

"What are you sorry for?" He pulled her back a bit, forcing her to look at him.

"I made you mad." His eyes flew wide, and she took that to mean he was getting upset at her again. She tried turning away, but he wouldn't let her. "I saw your face. You're pissed that I kept you up, that I asked you to stay in here. I shouldn't have. I'm such an idiot."

"You're not an idiot." Gibbs smirked. "You're one of the smartest people I know. Most of the time." He rubbed her shoulder as he thought about what he wanted to say. "I called and talked to Sally and Aaron." She sniffled, and he handed her a tissue from the box on the bedside table.

"They told me about fixing you up, and the time you went to the hospital and were denied care." He sighed, and she took the opportunity to speak.

"I thought they'd stop after that." They were quiet for a moment. "You looked so angry, I thought you were mad at me." Gibbs scoffed softly.

"Are you comfortable with me being in here? Want more time alone?" She shook her head.

"No to what, Sam?"

"Stay."

"So I should go?" He knew he was on thin ice, but the genes that made him a man sometimes blocked intelligence. She huffed a sigh. He was trying to make her smile, she was sure of it.

"No." She rolled over and looked up at him. "Stay. Goofball."

"Oh, ok." He looked relieved, and she laughed.

"So, instead of staying in a room all day, what do you want to do today?"

"I don't know. What would you like to do?" She rolled her eyes.

"We're in a city you know. You kinda need to decide."

Twenty minutes later found the four of them heading off to lunch and the Empire State Building.


	34. Chapter 34

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to my amazing beta, Headbanger Rockstar! Love you! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

###################################

Paul and Frank loved days like this. Or maybe they hated them. Perhaps a little of both. They were dressed in plain clothes, flanking Gibbs and Sam as they strolled down the boardwalk at Coney Island. A slight drizzle had cleared most of the crowd, which had them relaxed a bit.

All formality had been dropped, and they went by first names only to make them blend in well. Three of them carried concealed weapons, yet they looked like four friends out for lunch. Sam and Gibbs had managed to get themselves back into the playfulness of the day before, adding Paul and Frank to the fun.

Gibbs had talked her into the famous Coney Island hot dogs for lunch, and she watched, her face in the similar expression of horror as he'd expressed the night with the beans, as the vendor prepared her "true" Coney dog. Mustard, chili without beans, and onions made for a frightening mess.

"Are you sure this is edible?" Gibbs smirked.

"This coming from a woman who cooked an entire leg of _something_ over a wood-burning stove?" Frank spewed his mouthful of soda.

"It was antelope, and you ate like crazy." She teased back. She took a breath, and then a bite. A look of disgust crossed her face, and she looked around for a trashcan. While her companions laughed, she spit the vile mess into the can. "Oh, that is disgusting!"

Gibbs laughed, and she stood looking like a cat with a hairball. Her tongue worked, her face was contorted, and he couldn't stop laughing.

He ordered another, and handed her one smothered with cheese that was topped with just a tad of chili. "Try this one."

"You're not winning me over to this stuff."

"Oh, come on. You've had a hot dog before."

"Yeah. When I was a little kid. My dad caught my mom feeding them to us, and got mad. Said they were predigested." She grimaced. "I never tried one after that."

"They're not predigested." Gibbs was laughing. "They're just finely ground."

"Finely ground what? This isn't beef."

"Some of it is."

"You're not making progress here, Gibbs."

"Oh, stop being a turd and try it." She took a much smaller bite, chewed, swallowed, and looked ill.

"It's squishy. That's not meat." She handed the dog back to him. "You like it, you eat it. I'm looking for real food." Two vendors down, she found hamburgers and fries.

They munched happily as they took in the sights. A little boy who looked to be about three, was fascinated with the fish under the dock, and to his daddy's consternation, kept dropping his "chippies" off the dock. He'd giggle every time a fish nibbled at one, which was the only encouragement he needed.

The noise from the park was something Sam hadn't expected. The first few times people screamed, she looked around, wondering what was going on. She'd shaken her head at the notion that people would ride things _on purpose_ that would scare them.

"I'm not getting on that."

"It's an amusement park must." Frank tugged her arm. "Come on. You know you want to." Gibbs stood back with Paul, as amused as the other man.

"That's not a horse." Gibbs gave up and laughed.

"No, but it is a must." He stepped up and flanked her other side. "And we're going."

"Fine." She felt completely foolish at first, but as the merry-go-round started, she couldn't help but smile. After that, she talked them into the teacups, as they looked fun. That, and if they drug her up on a fake horse, they could at least have tea with her. All three men groaned and followed. They done been had.

They sat in the teacups, Sam grinning. The guys figured they'd get the better of her, and through a silent pact, agreed to spin it as fast as they could. Before the platform began to turn, they began to turn the wheel. Sam grinned. The platform began its slow journey, and the guys spun them faster. Sam was laughing so hard she was barely breathing.

The ride came to a stop after what seemed like an eternity to Gibbs. He'd not ridden this thing since Kelly was little, and then they'd not spun very fast. His head was swimming.

"That was great." He groaned. The woman who couldn't fly or eat a hot dog loved to spin. "We should do it again." Gibbs felt his hot dog argue.

They stepped from the ride, and Gibbs met with a series of misadventures. First, a little boy ran headlong into his already roiling stomach. Second, he caught the smell of the horribly dirty diaper of the baby in the shoulder carrier before him. And third, he didn't get to the can in quite enough time and hit his shoes. Sniper, yes. Whirling dervish, no.

##################################

Sam was entranced with the people she saw. There were fewer than usual from the conversation of her companions, but it was still crowded. The tall, colorful cat-in-the-hat style hats made her laugh, the mimes kept her entertained as they followed some of the more interesting individuals, mimicking them.

The afternoon was turning chilly, so Gibbs decided that it was time to move somewhere warm. She looked down at his hands and realized his fingers had a slight palor.

"You ok?"

"Just hurts a bit." He smirked. "Nothing much, but there's warm things to show you."

"Oh, like a heater in a car?" With a nod, the four of them headed back to the parking lot.

Once they were in the car, Gibbs asked the guys where they thought they should go next. Frank had no idea, so Paul declared himself dictator since he was driving. Gibbs leaned forward and smacked his head. Sam tapped his shoulder.

"Be nice."

"I was. DiNozzo would have gotten a concussion." She looked down at his hands as he rubbed them together.

"How are they? Really?"

"Achy." She took one hand in hers, rubbing gently as she got his blood flow moving once again. When she got to his other hand, he leaned over, letting his arm rest on her thigh. She smiled and kissed his cheek, going back to work on his hand.

"Getting better?"

"Oh, yeah." He sounded relaxed, and the men up front pretended like they heard nothing. "Feels great." She chuckled and toyed with his wrist a bit, running her thumb over his pulse.

When she finished working on his hands, he put his arm around her, pulling her close. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Paul broke the moment.

"We've hit traffic, guys, so it may be a while." He looked in the rearview mirror, nodding quietly to Frank after a moment. Sam and Gibbs were sound asleep in the back. Her head rested on his shoulder, his arm was behind her neck, and his head was resting on hers. Frank grinned. If only they could talk.

#######################################

Sam stared up at the Empire State Building. She'd seen it in pictures, but its sheer size had never really come through. They went in and rode the elevator to the top, and when they stepped out onto the observation deck, Sam was astounded.

The building swayed gently, which was unnerving, and the tall fence made her wonder about the mental stability of some of the people who visited. From their perch, cars were tiny specks, people weren't visible, and she decided that a hay loft was plenty high from now on.

"Ok, I am ready to go." Gibbs grinned at her.

"Ya think?" She'd only been basically clinging to the bricks of the building for the last two minutes.

They got to the car, and he asked if she'd seen anything that she wanted to check out. After thinking for a moment, she shook her head.

"No, I actually think I'm kind of ready to be away from people."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure."

"Well, Paul, back to the hotel."

####################################

They munched on left-over pizza, passing time until the 50's style diner in the hotel would be a little more cleared out. Sam had seen it on the way in, wondering how she'd missed it before, when Gibbs reminded her that she was just a bit stressed when they'd arrived.

"No excuse for not paying attention," she berated herself. "I mean, come on. There's a neon juke box. How on earth did I miss that?"

"I have no idea. But you're sure you want to eat there?" She rolled her eyes.

"Of course! There's a juke box and the waitresses are in poodle skirts and bobby socks."

"You and Abby." He stalked off to get a shower.

##############################

Sam was in heaven. The juke box worked, the menu held favorites from the 50's, including malts, shakes, home-style meatloaf, and mashed potatoes with lumps in them.

The waitresses themselves were amazing. Fun, talkative, and the service was quick. Sam ordered a Moon Pie with ice cream for dessert, and Gibbs rolled his eyes. She grinned at him.

"What, you thought this was a thyroid problem?" She pointed to her body. The smart comment, combined with her smile and the guys couldn't help it. They laughed.

When it came, Gibbs went to snag a bite, but she pulled her plate away.

"Nu-uh, mister." They stared at one another with narrowed eyes, and their server wondered if a fight was going to start over a Moon Pie a la mode. Than Sam grinned. "Get your own. You need to sweeten your personality anyway."

"Oh, shut up." Gibbs grabbed her plate and scooped up a bite. Their server got a good chuckle, a better tip, and Frank and Paul added more to their "I know nothing" mental files.

On the way back to their room, they discussed what to do for the rest of the evening. They decided another movie was in order, and soon they all sat in the living room area of the room, arguing over what movie to watch. Gibbs growled in frustration, grabbed the remote, turned it to Twister, and proceeded to take the batteries out of the remote.

"Hey! DiNozzo number One, Two, and Three!" He snapped. "Watch it and stop talking!" Sam giggled and settled back. He sat by her on the couch, put his arm around her, and sat watching until she fell asleep, her head heavy on his shoulder.

With a kiss to his forehead, he picked her up and carried to her room before returning to finish watching the movie. When Paul shot him a look, he shrugged.

"What?"


	35. Chapter 35

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks Headbanger! LOVE YOU! (she's my amazing beta, in case you didn't know. Lol)

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Gibbs walked to bed after having finished the movie. He rubbed his lower back, and Frank chuckled.

"Regretting something, Director?"

"Not a word, Frank." He shot the man a grin. "I carry wood in the basement. Figured I could handle it." He stretched a bit. "Forgot she's mostly muscle."

"And muscle is heavier."

"You got it." Gibbs smiled sheepishly. "But pride demands that we finish what we start."

While Gibbs slept peacefully, with one ear tuned for a shout, and the other tuned to a dream, Sam lay staring up at the ceiling. She'd slept for a couple of hours, but was now wide awake. She tossed and turned, stacked and unstacked pillows, counted sheep, and finally gave up.

She figured she'd wake Gibbs if she got up to watch TV, so she stayed in bed. Some nameless worry tugged at her mind. That was what upset her the most, she decided. The unknown is mankind's greatest fear, and right now, almost everything in her life was unknown.

In the morning, she was headed back to Stillwater. Jethro would drop her off, and he'd be headed back to DC. She knew the court mess was supposed to start soon, and she worried about the charges she had agreed to press. While she knew it was wrong for people to do and say what they'd done and said, she wasn't really sure it was something that belonged in court. Court was for criminals, not stupid loud mouths.

And that Carol woman was a bitch, but she was just trying to make a name for herself. Sam worried about her career ending because of a young, foolish mistake. She could see how the young woman was wrong, but to screw up her entire life for it was perhaps too harsh.

She wondered what to do about the farm. She hated to sell it, as she'd been hoping she could leave it to Joseph, but she didn't want him to struggle like she had. And with him going to veterinary college, he'd want to be somewhere that people would have pets.

She wondered how to go about selling her farm. Several of her neighbors had moved, and they'd had to jump through all sorts of hoops. Sam sighed and rolled over. She wiped a tear from her eye and decided she'd call John Quincy and see what he said.

A look at the clock told her it was only 4. She groaned and punched her pillows. All of this would be so much easier if she had something to _do._ Most of the time, she figured things out as she worked. This non-action mess she faced every day now was driving her nuts. She had to find something to do.

Perhaps she'd ask Jack if she could help in the store. People weren't as bad as she'd been exposed to before. After all, she'd been in a crowd in the city today, and nothing bad had happened. And Jack seemed happy. So Stillwater can't be that bad.

Thoughts of small towns turned to thoughts of her goats, and she wondered how they all were. She hoped they were all being taken care of with the same love she gave them. Another tear rolled down her face. Her goats had been like her children. She knew their ins and outs. She knew their moods and habits. She wondered if she'd be able to get a new farm and get it ready in the next year.

Rick and Vicki's offer had been generous, but she knew that they'd already paid well above the price Joseph had asked of them. She also knew how easy it was to give up. She'd seen countless families driven out of the agricultural trades, and while she didn't understand giving up, she knew it was easy to get to a point of being complacent and give up.

That was somewhere she wanted to keep clear from. It was a mindset that she wasn't comfortable with, and didn't entirely understand. And she didn't want to understand it.

She sighed and rubbed her hands over her face. It was now 5, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Gibbs would be up soon. As soon as she heard him, she could get up and not worry about waking him.

Her mind whirred through the last of her worries, and she felt the peace of a calm mind wash over her. Damn. She was finally tired, and it was time to get up. She heard the door across the way as it opened, and she was up. She needed coffee. Lots of coffee. Now.

She stood from her bed, and for a brief moment, she wondered how she'd gotten to her bed. She remembered being on the couch… Her ears flamed as she realized he must have carried her. She hoped he didn't strain his back.

#####################################

Gibbs was glad he'd slept well. His back wasn't tight, which was another thing to be grateful for. The sadistic-wants-to-die part of him wondered if he should ask her weight, even as his self-preservation kicked in to spare his life.

He stretched a bit, making sure his back was going to continue moving and wasn't going to gink up on him. It hurt a bit, and while it was sore, he'd be able to hide it. He just couldn't promise he'd still be moving well after a few hours sitting in the car.

By the time he was out of his room, Sam already had the coffee brewing.

"You sleep ok?" This was his way of saying that she looked like crap without getting himself hit.

"No, not really." She yawned. "Mind took over." Another yawn. "That's why God made coffee."

"What were you thinking of?"

"It's a long laundry list. You really want it this early in the morning?"

"Sure. I slept." She shot him a glare over her cup, but proceeded to tell him everything she'd been thinking on in short detail.

#######################################

Tony answered his phone, groaning as he saw the time. He hated being on call.

"DiNozzo." He jotted down the information from dispatch, and called his second.

"Timothy McGee."

"Hey, McSunrise. Call the team. Be at the office in thirty." With a smirk, he hung up.

The case did seem to be a little cut and dry. A man had made a boat in his garage. It wasn't a wooden boat, but it was a nice pontoon boat with a pretty powerful outboard motor. That in and of itself wasn't a problem.

The problem came in when he got drunk and decided to see what it could do while he was still in the harbor. The biggest problem came when he rammed into the side of a tugboat owned and operated by the US Navy. The disaster which led the MCRT to standing on the deck and taking photos was when a young sailor fell over the side and was killed, which made this a murder investigation, with possible terrorist activity.

The stench of alcohol on the "captain" of the pontoon boat made them highly doubt the terrorism aspect. Ziva wondered if there was a "moron" category of terrorist. Tony rolled his eyes, slapped her head, and then gave her points for originality.

"Tony, you slap me again, and I will break your fingers, pull off your thumb nails with needle nose pliers, and keep Ducky away from you for 24 hours."

"Ye-ouch." Tony flexed his fingers and decided that his next slap would be on the run. Or McGee.

Back at NCIS, a very boring search revealed absolutely no links to terrorism. In fact, the man was the epitome of dull. He had 3 speeding tickets in the last four years and one drunken disorderly when he was 22. When he retired two years ago after working in the same factory for 33 years, he thought building a boat would be a good idea, and that a six pack on the water was a good idea.

Tony rolled his neck and looked to Tim.

"We wasted our Sunday on this?"

"Apparently so, Tony." He threw away his coffee cup. Tony looked around, as if realizing something.

"Where's the Probie, Probie?" Tim grinned.

"I got bored. So I sent him to get us coffee." Thunder rolled, lightening cracked, and the rain poured.

"Good one, Timmy."

################################

It was only twenty minutes into the drive, and Sam was sound asleep. Gibbs had made certain that she'd eaten to settle all the coffee she poured down her throat. He had smiled when he'd asked her a question, and she'd hummed in response. Another few minutes, and she was leaned against the door, her hand under her cheek, and was sound asleep.


	36. Chapter 36

Disclaimer: Don't own it

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar, my AMAZING BETA! Love you! Ptbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: Hold on to your seats, folks. This chapter is packed. Tissue warnings, terrorism warnings, and anything else you can think of…cuz I dunno. Anyway. Still AU and OOC.

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Gibbs answered his phone, doing his best to stay quiet. The news, however, had him tense and barking orders. Sam jerked awake. She stared at him with wide eyes for a moment, knowing better than to speak. She'd wait till he was done.

Whatever it was, it was serious. She heard FBI and CIA and Homeland Security, and fear jolted through her. She'd heard of 911. Was this what it had been like that morning? Jethro was completely tense beside her, his eyes hardened into flakes of flint.

When he hung up, he closed his eyes for a moment. When he turned to her, he had himself under control, even as the tension made his shoulders like rock under his polo shirt.

"What's wrong?" Her voice seemed oddly quiet after his intense orders of a minute ago.

"Terrorist threats." He met Paul's eyes in the mirror. He gave orders to continue to Jack's. Paul simply nodded. Without another look to Sam, he dialed his phone again, connecting to DiNozzo, who was already in MTAC.

He spoke quickly, his answers terse and exact. Sam had never seen this side of Gibbs, and it was unnerving and yet seemed completely _him_. It was if she was seeing the missing piece to her friend.

Twenty minutes after he first took the call, they pulled into Jacks. He and Paul carried her bags in while Frank checked to be sure they were secure. Paul waved a good bye as he left, leaving his Director to say his farewell.

Gibbs explained about a terrorist threat that had just come to light, and how several agencies would be working together to keep it from happening. As he spoke, Sam was digging in the fridge and making him a quick lunch for the trip back.

Three sandwiches, a bag of chips from the pantry, a couple of oranges, and bottles of water were stuck in a plastic sack, and she handed it to him with a hug.

"Have a good drive back, and be safe." She kissed his cheek, stepping back for a second. He smirked.

"Thanks, Sam." With a nod to his dad and a quick peck to her forehead, he was gone.

########################################

Gibbs strode into MTAC, coffee in hand. Tony looked back, nodding as he finished getting the reports from the heads he was coordinating with. Gibbs had been busy on the phone, so he knew most, and from what he'd heard, Tony had done a fine job.

Details had come in, and the terrorists had planned a sort of duplicate attempt of the bombing of the failed 1993 bombing of the North Tower of the World Trade Center, adding in a few of their own ideas. A truck filled with a urea nitrate-hydrogen bomb was intended for the Empire State Building. That he and Sam had been there only the day before filled Gibbs with a chilled sense of dread. He imagined all of the families visiting, of the tourists, and those working there.

"Sitrep."

"Team One took down three terrorists planting a bomb at the base of the building." He cleared his throat. "Team Two found a car loaded with explosives parked in the west parking lot. Not near enough to the Empire to cause problems there, but it could have brought down about two levels of the garage." Gibbs nodded. "Teams Three and Four have been working on successfully evacuating the areas, with the only casualties being the terrorists."

This was one of those times when Gibbs didn't care what organization the Teams belonged to. Just like every other agent in all of the other agencies, it only mattered that civilians were safe, that America was spared another attack, and that they had lost none of their own.

Two other teams were working with groups of LEO's and various military units to gather the rest of the terrorist cell. NCIS' own MCRT was researching several of the terrorists, tracking down money as it moved in and out of the cell.

The biggest worry was the missing truck that was destined to crash into the Empire State Building. They had no idea if it was a large van, or a delivery truck, or a decommissioned public bus. Abby whooped and called up to Tony. She found a large pay out to a tool company that was going out of business.

They now had a good lead on the truck, as in the color may have changed, but it was a GMC Sierra 2500 made in 1986, which meant it was metal. When it blew, there would be a ton of shrapnel.

##########################################

Miles away, Sam and Jack sat glued to the television. Breaking news report followed breaking news report. It seemed that every five minutes, there was something new to share. The terrorist threat had been raised to red, and Jack explained how after 911, the easiest way to warn people was with the color codes. He went on to tell how that code was phased out in April of 2011, but was often used by news stations to help people understand the seriousness of a threat. The new National Terrorism Advisory System was far more detailed and let people know what to look for and expect, rather than just giving a color.

Sam wished she'd gone back to DC with Gibbs. She was terrified for him. Was he safe? Was he being a hero and risking his life? He had to coordinate with people. Did that mean he was in harms' way? She felt sick.

#############################################

Gibbs was in MTAC, and they had a lead on the truck. Tony nodded and nearly ran out of MTAC, calling for his team to gear up. They had a long way to go, a short time to get there, and that meant Ziva was driving. The best they could do on intel they could do was knowing for sure that the truck had crossed state lines into New York only twenty minutes ago. They had no idea if the bomb was already on board, or if it would be loaded closer to its destination. But the MCRT was going in for the hunt.

Ziva zipped across highways, local and state police clearing the way the best they could. Everyone was watching for the truck, and tension was high. With the warnings, most of the roads were cleared, as everyone had tried to get to safety. And right now, safety meant anywhere that a truck with a bomb was not.

They kept in touch with Gibbs all the way to the limit of New York City, when they spotted the truck in question. A quick call to Gibbs confirmed contact, and their Director got a bomb squad mobilized and on its way to intercept with a SWAT team.

That's when everything started to go wrong. The driver had a remote that controlled a frequency jammer. When he hit the button, all traffic cameras, cell phones, and electronic devices within 40 city blocks failed.

In MTAC, Gibbs lost all visuals of his team. He'd been tracking their progress through traffic cams, and he was now in the dark. He ordered a link opened to DiNozzo, only to be told that there was no connection. He stared at the screen, his mind racing. His team was flying blind.

Minutes passed as Directors of other agencies tried to reach their teams, contacting Gibbs as he tried to contact them. It was a fox-trot Charlie of the worst sort. Ten federal agents were unaccounted for, sixteen LEO's, and a bomb on the loose.

Gibbs growled and paced, hating not knowing. Abby was frantic down in her lab, searching for the reason communications were lost. Her fingers flew over her keyboard, but could find nothing.

#####################################

Sam and Jack sat on the couch, their mouths gaping open. The chase had been shown on the news, when the station suddenly fuzzed out. Jack was on the phone almost immediately to a friend that he had in New York, trying to find information. To his dismay, the lines were down.

Sam was pacing. She was worried, almost to the point of fear. She knew the people in the chase. This was as bad as every time Ellis sent word that he was heading out for another tour, only it was worse. The fear she felt was for an entire family that had become hers.

She looked to Jack, and saw the same fears cross his face. They switched channels, hoping to find news on another channel. The only thing anyone had to report was what they already knew. There was a lot to know, but no way to get the information.

Sam picked up the phone once and thought about calling Jethro just to make sure he was safe. But if she called at the wrong time, she could risk his life, and the lives of anyone depending on him. With tears in her eyes and fear breathing down her neck, she did the only thing she knew to do to pass the time. She went to the kitchen and began to cook.

Hours passed as Jack's counters filled with meals to be frozen and stored along with desserts he was anxious to try. The fudge had caught his attention, and to her amusement, he had helped himself to a spoonful while it was still warm.

He returned to the couch and flipped channels, hoping to find anyone with new news. Minutes later, he called anxiously to Sam. She joined him on the couch and together they watched with horror as the newscaster showed still photographs of what looked like a small war zone.

The area had been cleared of civilians, but the man had detonated the bomb anyway when he realized he would not make it to his destination. The photographs showed bodies covered by tarps, and the news caster gave a report of the agencies involved. Sam and Jack heard the letters NCIS, and their minds locked on the tarp covered remains of those who had died in the line of duty. Had they lost any of their family? Tears ran down their faces, as they realized that even if their loved ones had escaped, many other people lost mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters and friends today. Sam wept.

#####################################

Gibbs felt relief flood through him as communications returned, but it was lost as he looked on the carnage on the screen. He ordered the COMM to contact Tony, and he felt his knees weaken when Tim answered, his voice shaky.

"McGee! What's going on! Where's Tony?"

"He's hurt, Boss. He's hurt, and so is Ziva." He failed to mention his own need for stitches. "But we're all alive."

"What happened?"  
>"He had a signal jammer. We were able to get him here, and get the area cleared. I'm not exactly sure what happened after that. We were behind our car, using it as a shield, and we seemed to be making progress talking him out of the truck as the SWAT team got around behind. They and the bomb squad had the gear, and they were in position to disarm the bomb when it blew."<p>

"How bad are you guys hurt?"

"Tony can't hear. He was the closest. He got hit in the arm with a large piece of metal. It's still in. I had to take the phone from his pocket. Ziva's got a cut on her head. She's conscious, but they've got her on oxygen. I think she got hit in the chest with something."

"What about you, Tim?"

"I'll need some stitches."

"How bad?" Tim huffed. He didn't want to admit that his leg was shredded.

"A few cuts." From the pause, Gibbs knew it was worse than he was admitting to, but he'd take that answer for now.

"What about the new guy?"

"Pete? He's ok." Tim breathed a sigh of relief. "He has some little cuts, but nothing that's going to put him out of action."

"Good." Gibbs paused a moment. "Good job today. Pass the word."

"Sure thing, Boss." Gibbs ended the call.

##########################

As he sat in his office an hour later, his cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID. _Jack. _

"Gibbs."

"Are you ok?" The question was quick. "I saw the news. Is your team ok?" She took a breath, and Gibbs tried to answer. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have called you're busy."

"Sam, it's ok." He set down his pen and explained to her that the team was safe. She cried when she heard of their injuries, but was relieved to know that none of those who died were her friends. And then she felt guilty and selfish for feeling that way, knowing how it felt to never see your spouse again.

They talked for only a few minutes, but Gibbs found himself more grounded and able to focus. Sam shared the news with Jack, and together they headed to the church to light candles. It was a thing she had never heard of before, but when he explained it was a way to pray for those who had passed, their families, and to remember them, she was more than willing to go.

They entered the small church and Sam mimicked Jack's movements. When he knelt and crossed himself, she did the same. It mattered not to her that she didn't understand completely. She could ask questions later. What mattered was showing respect for those who had died serving their country.


	37. Chapter 37

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar for being my fabulous beta! Love you!

Note: I'm not a doctor! I looked stuff up on-line!

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_Tony shot a glance at Pete, and realized the young man was watching the unfolding drama like he was in a fog. He'd not scooted back into safety, but seemed to move toward it, like a bug to a zapper. The new leader pulled the younger man back into safety. Nothing had happened, but his own version of the Gibbs Gut told Tony that something was going to happen. Something bad. He put his arm over Pete's head as the shockwave of an enormous blast shook the car. Debris flew, Tim shouted, pain shot through Tony, and Ziva was blown forward with the force of a door literally blown from the car._

_Then all was silence._

While Gibbs finished reports and getting missing pieces of information from every agency involved, the MCRT was being admitted for care. Tony was able to make his own decisions for care, as he was conscious, so Gibbs was not immediately contacted.

Ziva needed immediate care. An x-ray showed that one of her lungs was punctured by one of her multiple broken ribs. A chest tube was inserted, and the doctor was pleased to see the blood flow from her damaged pleural cavity and into the first of the collection containers. The second container showed little bubbling, which meant the cavity leak was sealing already.

Her head was stitched as Tony headed for x-ray. The metal was imbedded in a way that concerned the doctors. It was near an artery, and before they removed it, they needed to be sure they could without endangering his life.

Tim was being stitched as Tony was being x-rayed. Multiple cuts littered his leg, and several of them were inches long. Three of them were over two inches deep. He received over 80 stitches, and while his leg would heal, he would be scarred.

The doctors shook their heads at Tony's arm. His bone had shattered, and while all of the pieces were there, not a single piece was of any good size. It looked like someone had taken out his bone and poured in corn flakes instead. The metal piece was cutting an artery in two, yet its position allowed the metal to act as a block, keeping the man from bleeding to death.

A vascular surgeon was called in along with an orthopedist. They decided to do a bone graft, for that was the only viable option to saving Tony's arm. Even with the graft, it would depend on the nerve and vascular damage. If blood flow was not returned soon, his arm would likely be lost. His tissues were suffering already from the lack of oxygen.

He had marked knee problems as one of his medical problem areas, so they decided to use his pelvis for the graft. The incision wouldn't be as deep and the removal of bone wouldn't put undue strain on his knees. As soon as the orthopedist arrived, the anesthesiologist was putting Tony under.

####################################

As Tony was being operated on, Tim was receiving the last of his stitches. Ziva was talking and answering questions, and the only bubbling in the second canister was when she exhaled or spoke. Pete was alone in the waiting room, pacing back and forth, going over the events of the day in his head, berating himself for panicking. His moment of panic had hurt someone else.

The surgeons were struggling with Tony. His artery was so damaged, that they were unable to repair it. The vascular surgeon finally called Gibbs, but the Director wasn't able to answer his cell, as he was in a conference video call with the Directors of Homeland Security, the FBI, and the NYPD Commissioner.

Ducky was next on the list. The ME gave swift permission for a length of vein to be removed from Tony's calf and inserted into his arm. When he finished his call, he dialed Pete's number after looking it up, and asked the young man how the rest of the team was.

Pete gave what information he could, letting the doctor know about Ziva being moved to the ICU, Tony being in surgery, and Tim being placed in a room. He sat for a moment after their call ended, trying to figure out why Tim would downplay their injuries. When he realized there was no reason beyond calming Gibbs down so he could do his job, the older man left his seat in autopsy, hoping his friend would be able to talk.

#############################################

Sam and Jack shared a restlessness that plagued them both. There was more going on than they were being told. Neither could rest, wandering around the house as if walking from room to room would ease the tension.

"Pack a bag." Jack finally stood in the living room with is hands at his hips. Sam looked at him, her questions obvious. "We're going. I hate not knowing, not knowing if I can call. Hell, it's 9 PM, and I'm afraid to call and disrupt him. He could be at home in bed already."

"He'd call, wouldn't he?"

"Not necessarily." Jack spoke without thinking. "Tony often downplays injuries, so he could be at the hospital." Sam blanched. The nameless fear that had been lurking slammed into her brain full force.

Foil was thrown over containers while Jack carried out two crock pots and butter tubs filled with pieces of cooled fudge. A casserole and three loaves of bread followed soon after. They got their bags packed, Jackson called the young men who helped him in the store and they agreed to take over for a few days. Less than an hour after deciding they'd go they were pulling out of the driveway.

###########################################

"Jethro, my boy." Ducky was relieved that he was able to speak with his friend, especially given the seriousness of the situation. He had no doubt that Gibbs was unaware. He was far too calm.

Ducky began to detail the injuries described to him, going into the surgery Tony was currently undergoing. Gibbs expression turned nearly murderous. Cuts and a broken bone were a far cry from what the ME was describing. If Ziva just had a cut across her forehead, there would be no need for her to be in ICU. Tim had received stitches for the better part of two hours. That was not a couple of cuts.

"McGee told me he had a couple of cuts." The Director spoke through gritted teeth. "He lied to me."

"Jethro, need I remind you that he was most likely trying to simply reassure you that they would all survive, thereby releasing your mind to deal with larger issues."

"Larger issues? Larger issues?" Gibbs thundered. "They're my team!"

"Not anymore." Ducky's voice was so calm it shocked Gibbs. "You are the Director of NCIS. Tony is the MCRT Lead Agent now. It is his team. Your job now includes all of the agents and the running of this agency. Timothy knows that. He was helping you, even if his methods were a little underhanded."

Gibbs seemed to deflate before him.

"So what do I do?"

"We go to NYC and deal with what we find." Ducky cleaned his glasses. "If they need continued medical care, I suggest we have them transferred to Bethesda." Gibbs nodded.

With a quick call to SecNav, Gibbs arranged to have Hetti take over for the next 24 hours, provided Gibbs was available at all times over the phone. He agreed. Moments later, he and Ducky were in the car, go-bags tossed in the trunk.

###################################

Jack drove slower than he would have liked, but he knew that getting a ticket would have cost them more time and lost miles. When they finally pulled into his son's drive, he was slightly dismayed to see all of the lights off and the Charger missing.

The pair went inside, carrying armloads of dishes as they walked. Sam started to slide them into the mostly empty fridge. Jack walked through the house looking for evidence that his boy had been home in the last few hours. There was none.

#######################################

Gibbs and Ducky strode into Metropolitan Hospital. They headed straight for the ICU to check on Ziva. She was sleeping, but a quick look at her chart, and Ducky was able to update Gibbs on her condition. They left as silently as they had come, their next stop the room that Pete had given them for Tim.

He was awake, his mangled leg on top of the covers, ointment glistening in the fluorescent light. Gibbs winced as he looked at the swelling and discoloration surrounding the roadmap of suture.

His phone rang. _Hetti_.

#####################################

Abby fairly ran into Gibbs house. She called for him, surprised when Sam and Jack came out from the kitchen.

"What are you guys doing here?" She was near hysteria. "Never mind. It's great." Her hands flew. "No, wait, maybe it's not. Do you know where Gibbs is? I just talked to Pete, and Tony's not out of surgery yet, and Ziva's in ICU, and Timmy's legs are looking like a day at the train tracks gone bad, and…"

Jack waved his hands.

"Wait a minute, Abby. Wait a minute." She stopped talking. "What are you talking about?"

"Tony's arm is broken bad enough to need surgery, and Ziva is in ICU with broken ribs and a punctured lung, and Timmy has like a hundred stitches in his leg, and I tried to call Gibbs, and he didn't answer, and I was hoping he was here, and I can't find him." She finally took a breath. "Do you know where he is?"

#############################

The orthopedic surgeon came out to give a report to Tony's next of kin. He'd received word from one of the nurses that the man was now outside and was fuming and demanding answers. He took in the stormy look on the man's face and decided he'd give as much detail as he could. He'd been present for most of the surgery, and now was waiting for the arteries to be finished so he could finish the necessary bone graft.

"Family for Anthony DiNozzo?"

"Here." Gibbs stood, Ducky at his side. "How is he."

"It doesn't look good." The doctor sighed. "The vascular surgeon had to remove nearly 3 inches of the artery in his left arm. To replace it, he used vein removed from his calf." Gibbs sank to his chair.

"Is that possible?" He looked to Ducky for confirmation.

"Oh, yes. It is far more common with by-pass surgeries, but is very effective."

"How bad is the bone?" Gibbs looked mildly ill.

"His bone was shattered, as in beyond repair with screws and plates. I took shavings of his pelvis to create a frame for his bones to regrow around." As hardened as he was, Gibbs allowed a tear to course down his face. "We've not yet had success regaining blood flow to his arm." The surgeon sighed. He'd discussed this with his coworker before leaving, but it was never easy. "If we are unable to repair the damage, and he continues to lose blood, we may need to take his arm."


	38. Chapter 38

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks, Headbanger! You're a great beta and even better friend! Love you!

Note: Still not a doctor! Lol

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"Assuming that all goes well with the rest of the artery repair, and blood flow is returned, the rest of the graft should take only another hour, including the time to finish closing all incisions." A garbled announcement came over the speakers, and the surgeon stood. "That's me." With a nod, he disappeared beyond the doors, permission to take the limb if necessary signed and dated.

Gibbs stood and began to nearly jog down the hall.

"Jethro? What are you doing?" Ducky struggled to keep up, catching up with the seething agent only when he got to the elevators.

"I'm gonna go kill McGee." Gibbs eyes flashed with anger. "This is more than a damned broken arm. A cut to the head? Duck, she nearly died."

"With all due respect, Jethro, he couldn't have known the extent of their injuries. They were all internal." Gibbs growled at him.

"But he could have told me about his leg. Those weren't closed injuries, Duck." He stabbed the buttons with a vengeance. "Damn piss poor excuse."

"Go easy on the boy, Jethro." The door opened, and Gibbs stepped out.

"Easy my ass."

#############################################

Abby called Pete again to get an update, and was informed that Gibbs and Ducky were at the hospital. He had been in the cafeteria, and as he talked with Abby, the men entered the room. The glare from Gibbs had Pete ready to run. When the probationary agent stood to leave, Gibbs held out his hand, motioning for him to stay exactly where he was.

"Boss, I know you're mad. I should have…"

"You should have?" Gibbs narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. McGee squirmed. "You should have told me how serious things were." He drew in a deep breath when Ducky cleared his throat.

The glare he shot the old ME made Pete and Tim shrink, but Ducky rose to the occasion, squaring his shorter frame and meeting Jethro's gaze. The men faced off, having some unspoken debate.

"As the second in command of the Major Crimes Response Team," Gibbs turned to Tim once again as he spoke. "You have a responsibility to tell me if your team is going to be out of commission so I can have a second team step into your position, even if temporarily. You knew how badly your leg was cut, and from the reports, Tony had a large piece of metal still imbedded in his arm." He tilted his head for emphasis. "Those things you could have, and _should have_ reported."

"Boss," Tim tried to sit up so he could explain, only to fall back in agony. To his surprise, Gibbs came and stood by him, fixing the covers over him and helping him readjust comfortably in the bed.

"Save it, Tim. Apologies are a sign of weakness, and I know why you did it." The Director looked uncomfortable for a moment. "You were right in your decision. Just next time, tell me."

"Yes, Boss." A moment passed. Just as Pete thought he was safe, Gibbs called him into the hall.

###########################

In the OR, two surgeons and a small army of nurses were fairly celebrating. The surgery had finally started to turn around. The replacement vein was finally functioning properly, and blood flow returned to the arm. It had taken longer than they liked, and he wasn't out of the woods yet, but with proper care, he would hopefully keep his arm. The graft was finished, and as Ducky headed to ICU to check on Ziva, Gibbs returned to the waiting room. An hour had passed, and he was anxious for news.

################################

Carol Jordan breathed a sigh of relief. Sam Walking Tall was no longer the latest news. She'd talked to a friend of hers who had won a few court cases, and he convinced Carol that offering to settle out of court would be best. Especially since something bigger and better and more important to the nation had happened. Carol could feel the tension drain from her. Little Nell from the country would never know what hit her.

Carol finally did her homework and found that Sam had leased out her goats, selling only the babies, so there was really no loss there. The cheese that she'd not sold wasn't over $6000.00, even if went for the full market value. Sitting unfinished in refrigeration units it was worthless.

Since she could get the goats back, and the babies were sold for good prices that took quite a chunk out of what she should be responsible for. She did the math, and it looked great to her. Harrison Jones had made wonderful notes for his series, and the legal department at ZNN had their own records for the settlement they were going to offer, so she didn't have to dig far to find evidence to support her offer.

With having that many acres, selling the property shouldn't be a problem, especially in a rural location. Carol figured Sam already had several offers. Then she scoffed. Who on earth would want to live in a house as small as the one out on that farm? It was pathetic. If anything, she'd done the woman a favor.

After spending an evening with her calculator and a calculating friend, she came up with a "settlement" that Little Nell was sure to go for. They had a detailed list of Sam's expenses, including grains, cheese cultures, gasoline, seed for crops, and electricity for all of the outbuildings. Their second list showed how much she would save by going out of the "goat industry" and buying a small house near a town or city. To Carol, it made sense.

Who wanted to live on a farm anyway? The woman had to be insane or stupid. No one in their right mind wanted to live that far from other people. No wonder her "neighbors" picked on her. A woman who left herself exposed like that deserved to be picked on. And she didn't believe for one minute that Sam Walking Tall wasn't taking "visitors" of the male persuasion out there. No one had that many rumors without there being some truth to them.

She took the settlement she'd come up with to the legal department that afternoon. She left the sealed envelope with the secretary before heading off to her lawyer, where she would present her offer and ask him to present the offer to Sam.

#################################

"Good news." The two tired surgeons greeted Gibbs. "We got the bone graft done, the artery replacement is functioning properly, and every indication is that his arm will heal well." Gibbs let out a sigh of relief.

"There is a chance of some nerve damage, and possibly some difficulty with healing, as the arm was without proper circulation for so long."

"Do you think he'll be able to use it?"

"Well," Dr. Orin smiled. "While it's too early to be certain, I'm reasonably confident that his arm will heal well." He paused. "In just a few minutes, we'll have him in recovery, and you can join him there."

"Thanks, doctors." The men nodded and left.

####################################

Carol's lawyer opened her offer and rolled his eyes. He'd already been unimpressed by the woman, but this was below what he'd expected even from her. She was completely self-centered and immature, and this proved it beyond a doubt.

Did she honestly think that writing out pros and cons and finances and savings for the farm made it ok to offer such a ridiculously low amount? He would deliver the offer, as he was being paid to do it, but he'd make sure ZNN was aware of her "offer", and he'd encourage Sam and Director Gibbs to sue her for defamation of character, lost wages for Sam, the cost of cheese, emotional distress, and the distress of letting her animals go for even a year, and the possibility of losing them forever.

Zach Hayden had been hired to represent Carol, and he now regretted taking the position. Only a truly heartless person would use a national crisis to try to wheedle out of taking responsibility for their actions. Especially when they had caused more stress and distress during a time of trauma. He rubbed his forehead once more, wishing he'd been hired by the other party.

He knew it wasn't quite ethical, but he called a contact over at ZNN and told them of her offer. He suggested they handle letting her know the offer was crap. After conferring with the other man, he understood just how terrible her offer was. ZNN was planning to offer her a little over $3,000,000.00 to keep it from the courts. Carol had offered excuses, a weak apology, and a measly $5,000.00.

###################################

Ducky sat by Ziva, watching as she slept. He checked the collection canisters once again, and was pleased to see a continuing change for the better. He'd checked her records once again, and was surprised to find that she'd broken six ribs, all on the left side.

She moaned, and he was to her side, smiling down at her.

"Good evening, my dear girl."

"Ducky." She smiled softly. "We got home?"

"No, Ziva. We are still here in New York City." He paused as she licked her lips. "Would you like a drink?" She nodded, wincing as she tried to lean forward a bit.

"No, no. Don't move. You've managed to bang yourself up quite nicely."

"I would not describe this as nice."

"No, I don't suppose you would." He held the straw to her lips and began a tale of a youth he met in Pakistan nearly thirty years before.

################################

"Hey, Tony." Gibbs kept his voice quiet. "Time to wake up, son." He waited a few minutes and spoke to him again.

"Hey! DiNozzo! Gear up!" The young man's eyes twitched. "There ya go. I see some movement there. Come on." After a few more minutes of quiet cajoling, Tony's eyes fluttered open.

He smiled dopily, the anesthesia still fogging his brain.

"Hey, Boss."


	39. Chapter 39

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to my amazing beta, Headbanger Rockstar! Love you! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

##########################

Tony looked at Gibbs, the drugs obviously muddling his mind. He moved a bit, and looked down at the contraption holding his arm still. Then he looked up to Gibbs.

"What happened?" He cleared his throat. "Where's Ziva? Did she make it? What happened to Tim? Did I get Pete's head covered in time? He froze like a little scared bunny." He giggled. "Like the Easter Bunny when he gets caught stealing Santa's cookies." He grew serious.

"Why do I hurt?" His eyes widened, and before Gibbs could answer any questions, he continued on with his ramble. "Did I die? Is that what happened? Is this Purgatory?" He took a breath. "I hurt like hell, Boss." His brow knitted. "What are you doing here?"

"You're in the hospital, Tony." Gibbs chuckled at his former second.

"Oh. So that's why I hurt." He groaned. "Pain. It always seems to happen, and it hurts. Why does pain hurt so much? Why can't it tickle. Like, a feather duster tickle."

"You asked about Tim and Ziva?"

"Oh, yeah." Tony seemed to focus for a moment. "How are the Probie and Probette who are no longer the Probies?"

"They're safe." Gibbs cleared his throat. "Ziva broke several ribs, and she's going to be in the hospital for a few days."

"Oh. Good. Can I go see her?" He went to sit up, but a sharp stab of pain stopped him. "Ow. That hurt." He looked down at his arm. "What happened?" His eyes went wide again. "Pete. Little scared Peter Rabbit. Is he ok?"

"He's fine, Tony. You did a good job of protecting your probie."

"Oh, good." Tony grinned. "Hey, Boss."

"Yeah."

"They got me on the good shit, don't they?"

"Oh, yeah." Tony giggled and fell back to sleep.

######################################

Pete sat by Tim, slowly unwinding after his talk with Gibbs. He'd thought for sure the Director was going to do all but kill him, but to his surprise, the man had actually asked him how he was before asking him to give an account of the blast.

"_I'm fine, Sir." Gibbs had simply nodded. He bit back the comment about don't call me Sir. It was one of the things he was getting used to. If he set a precedent for the agents to not call him Sir, it would be an uphill battle for the next Director, and he didn't intend to keep the position long. Just long enough to get through this patch, and then as far as he was concerned, Vance could have his job back._

"_What happened out there today?" Pete blushed. "I'm waiting."_

"_I froze, Sir." Pete swallowed hard, the guilt he felt showing itself. Gibbs nodded and waited. "I watched the bomb and SWAT teams getting into position, and I could hear Tony telling me to get behind the car." Pete swallowed again. "Everything slowed down. I could see him lift the detonator, and then I felt Tony pull me." He met Gibbs eyes, shame so obvious that Gibbs nearly pitied him. "He put his arm over my head, and the bomb went off." He couldn't finish._

_He'd wrapped his arms around himself then, his head down. He waited for the shouting to start. A gentle tap to the back of his head made him look up in surprise. _

"_That's a mistake all Probies make." Gibbs voice was calm. "Next time, make yourself follow orders. If Tony hadn't pulled you back, you'd have died." Pete flinched at the words. "His arms in a bad way, but you're alive."_

"_I'm so sorry."_

"_Don't apologize." Gibbs patted the young man's shoulder. "Just learn from this, alright?"_

"_Yes, Sir." Gibbs smirked._

"_Glad you're alright, Fred."_

"_It's Pete, Sir." _

"_You sure?" With that, Gibbs left him in the hall and returned to Tim's side, making sure he had everything he needed. Pete stood back, simply watching. Had he not known that this was the Director of NCIS, he would have assumed he was watching a father fuss over his son._

###############################################

Gibbs made sure that Tony was waking when needed, even if he was being grumpy about it, before he stepped out to call Hettie and SecNav. He gave them both sitreps, received them himself, and groaned as Abby called him once again. She had the worst timing today. Jack had tried twice, but he hadn't answered, as he'd been busy with his agents, and the older man had no idea of the severity of the situation. He could call Jack and Sam later.

It was as if she could sense when he was on the phone with the Secretary or Hettie, or talking with a doctor. He knew she was probably going nuts with her own sense of "Abby batty psychic powers" as Tony had dubbed them, but he'd not had the chance to call since he'd arrived.

"Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs!"

"Yeah, Abbs, I'm here."

"We've been so worried! What's going on? I got here to your house, because I couldn't find you at work, and Sam and Jack are here, and they have no idea what 's going on, and…."

"Jack and Sam are at my house? Why?"

"Cuz Jack's got your gut, well, not your gut, but his own, but it works like yours, and…"

"Abby."

"Sorry, it's just I'm really worried, and when I'm worried, I ramble." He waited while she drew a breath and called for Sam and Jack to come. He could hear Sam chattering with questions in the background and rolled his eyes. In the rush, he'd forgotten just how noisy they could be together.

He heard Jack chuckle in the background, and what sounded like a request for them to stop talking so they could hear whatever Leroy had to say. They finally quieted from the pelted questions, and he gave answers between comments and new questions.

By the time he was done, Abby was ready to jump in her hearse and drive to the hospital, Sam was planning on how to care for the three as they healed, and Jack just wanted to know if Gibbs wanted them to stay or have his house empty when he got home.

"Abby, let me talk to Jack a minute." She handed the phone over.

"Leroy? How are you?"

"I'm better than the girls are right now." Jack chuckled.

"At least you're there, and not here." Gibbs huffed out a short laugh. "What can I do for you?"

"I need you and Abby to take Sam to get a cell phone."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. If she's serious about wanting to have them closer, then I'm gonna need to talk to her more often." Jack laughed.

"You'll actually bring them home sooner?"

"If someone is there to help them, yes."

"Alright. We'll go today."

##########################################

The team had been transferred to Bethesda as soon as they were stable enough to be loaded into ambulances and, as Tony put it, "shipped like last weeks' cargo, taking off like a prom dress, making like trees and leafing out, make like a ball and bounce." To Gibbs surprise, he kept going.

"Make like a hockey stick and get the puck out. Make like a check and bounce. Make like a sheep and get the flock out." But the one that got the loudest groan and a soft head tap was when he said he'd like to "make like a baby and head out first." He'd cleared his throat and corrected. "Well, before the other two, anyway." Gibbs asked if there was something they could give him to knock him out.

Gibbs was riding back with Tony, Abby had taken a commuter flight and was riding with Ziva. Tim was doing well enough that he could ride back with Ducky in the backseat. Pete would be riding shotgun, and the younger agent teased his partner about finally winning the battle for the "big boys' seat".

Sam and Jack waited for their arrival in the cafeteria at Bethesda. Conversation focused on what they'd need in the house, and how to go about getting it. Jack started to chuckle.

"What?"

"As often as Tony gets hurt, we should just buy all of this and keep it in Leroy's basement." Sam knit her brow.

"He does this sort of thing a lot?" With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, he began to tell the tale of Tony's many injuries. Then he got to Tony's bout with the plague.

"The plague?" She fairly squeaked the words. "Really? Like the dark ages, what the rats carried?"

"Not quite." Jack grinned. This was better than the reaction he'd expected. "The rats brought Bubonic Plague, he had Pneumonic."

"What's the difference?"

"You know, I'm really not sure, but I do know his lungs are damaged permanently from it. They're scarred, and that's how they knew that it wasn't Tony when his car exploded."

"His car exploded?" Her eyes grew large. "Are you kidding me?"

"I'm completely serious." Jack raised his hands. "Honest. His car exploded, and for hours, we all thought he was dead, until Ducky realized there was no scarring in his lungs."

"How did they find him?" Sam was leaning forward, her eyes so wide Jack thought they'd fall from her head. He had the fleeting thought that she sounded as though they were discussing Superman.

"They didn't." She sat back a bit, her brow furrowing once again.

"What? What do you mean they didn't find him?"

"He walked right into NCIS and asked if they'd missed him." She pursed her lips.

"You are joshing me, Jackson Gibbs. That is one big line of horse hockey. There is no way that's a true story." Jack just laughed and told her to ask his son.

A bouncy ringtone came from somewhere, and Sam looked at Jack. It had to be him. No one else was sitting close enough to them for it to be that loud.

"That you?"

"No, must be you."

"I don't…." She grinned. "Keep forgetting this thing." She dug it from her pocket. "Hello?"

"Hey, Sam we're about ten minutes out if you're there already."

"Hi, Gibbs! Yeah, we're here having the ever so wonderful hospital coffee and Danish."

"I'm sorry." He smirked. "I'll call once they're settled into rooms."

"Ok. We'll be waiting." She smiled over to Jack. "They'll be here in about 10 minutes, and as soon as they get into rooms, Gibbs will call."

"Good deal." With a dubious expression, she asked Jack if he could tell her any stories about Tony and his injuries that didn't deal with diseases from the dark ages or exploding vehicles.

"Well, I could tell you about the time he was pushed out of an airplane but still walked back to the office." Sam rolled her eyes and settled back, enjoying an old man and his fish tales.


	40. Chapter 40

Disclaimer: Don't own it. I even wished on a star last night. No luck.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar, my amazing beta

Note: One of our fellow authors had a health scare several days ago, and I'd like to take a moment to remind everyone that heart attacks evidence themselves differently in women than in men. It is helpful to have an EKG with your healthy heart rhythms, so that your doctor can spot irregularities sooner. A full list of symptoms for men and women can be found at the American Heart Association Website. PREVENTION includes things such as monitoring cholesterol, healthy diet, maintaining or reaching a healthy weight, regular exercise, and not smoking or consuming alcohol in excess. Special thanks to stareagle50 for sharing her experiences and providing a list of preventions and the website. Thanks!

##################################

Tim was the first of the team to be released. After a final IV of fluids, a night of observation to be sure he wasn't having difficulties from the move, he signed the papers to go home with pleasure. He already knew going to his apartment wasn't going to happen, but he felt relief at leaving the hospital. And being spoiled at Gibbs house was sounding pretty good.

Tony had needed another hefty dose of pain killers by the time they arrived, and while he'd not suffered a setback per se, his recently repaired and altered circulatory system was under close watch. Ziva was readmitted to the ICU ward, where she would remain for the next three days before being moved to the step-down unit.

And thus began the fun of recuperation. Jack stayed with Tim most of the time while Sam was at the hospital with Tony and Ziva. The first time Sam had stayed with the young man, he'd needed to use the restroom, but had refused for three hours. He couldn't get there on his own, and sitting required help…and the caregivers decided that Tim needed Jack.

##############################

Sam came home after a day of arguing with Tony's doctor about physical therapy and the need to get his arm functioning properly. She walked into the kitchen to find Jack sitting with a man she recognized, but couldn't place. He stood, extending his hand.

"Hi, I'm not sure you remember meeting me a couple of weeks ago, but I'm your lawyer, Chris Southerland."

"Oh, yes! I'm so sorry, I knew your face, but couldn't place where from."

"No problem." He motioned for her to have a seat. "You've had a busy few weeks."

"Judging by that huge stack in front of you, so have you." The man nodded. He explained how he and his employees had tracked down all of the slanderous webcasts, television "news" reports, and newspaper posts that they could find.

"So I would encourage you to follow through with pressing charges for slander, libel, and trespassing to people as each case allows."

"There's so many of them." There were papers regarding some of her neighbors, the editor and sole reporter of the newspaper in town, and reporters from stations and papers she'd never even heard of.

"There are, and I don't normally press suits this large, but your case is a bit unique." He cleared his throat. "If you press charges only against Carol Jordan, she can in turn claim that you are singling her out to get revenge for her," he rolled his eyes, "enthusiastic pursuit of what she believed to be truth."

Sam sat quiet for a moment. "So if I don't sue all of these people for their part, she'll be free to do it to someone else?"

"I would highly doubt that she will ever get another reporting job, but she would, in a way, be able to say that she is innocent, and that you are going after only her because she told the truth as it was."

"But she told lies."

"Which is why I'm suggesting suing her for these charges." He cleared his throat. "She is right now willing to admit she made a mistake, and has an offer to settle out of court." He shifted papers around. "But, I have to tell you, it is less than acceptable."

"What is it?" She took the paper he held out and scanned down it. As she read, her hands began to tremble, and her lips pursed. Pure rage flashed across her face.

"Does she think I'm stupid?" Sam stood, her fists clenched tight. "I know how much it costs to run my farm for a year. Does she think I'll just be able to magically move somewhere? And what about business dealings in the future? There may be some people who believe that crap." She went on.

"My cheeses were lost! My goats are gone! Some of them will die in the next year, and I'll not be there to know if there's anything else that could have been done to save them! And the kid crop from this year!" Sam waved her hands angrily. "Doesn't she realize that to lose an ENTIRE YEAR of kids is devastating? Even without her garbage, it would be terrible. This," She held up the paper, letting it fall back to the table. "This is just offensive." She turned toward the window. "Does she think those kids went for market value? They went for less, just to sell them quickly and make sure they were safe.

"I'd take a real apology over that. That…mess… just shows me that she has no remorse. She didn't learn a thing." She turned. "Why give this to you now? Why not wait until you presented her with what we were taking her to court for?" Chris knew she'd hate the answer.

"Her legal representation believes she did it out of wanting to strike first, and to get you to take any offer presented. That since you were not headlines anymore, you would be willing to settle."

"Not headlines anymore? I never wanted to be headlines anyway."

"I know that. She was hoping that with the recent terrorist attacks…"

"She wanted to use it to her advantage." Chris nodded, and he was glad to be on her side as her expression darkened. "I don't have any idea of how to deal with this." He nodded. "I don't even know how you came to be my lawyer, unless Gibbs hired you for me." She took a moment to gather her thoughts. "Please handle this in a way that will teach her the value of other people's reputations, property, and emotions. Especially teach her that national traumas are not for benefiting from."

"And the others?"

"I'll leave that to you, too." She shrugged. "You know better than I do. I can't see how they would affect Carol and that outcome, but I don't like that they destroyed my reputation, either."

"Very well, Mrs. Walking Tall." He stood and they shook hands.

"By the way, how did you come to be my lawyer?" The man smiled.

"It wouldn't be right for a Navy lawyer to represent you, as you're not in the Navy, and your husband has passed." Sam raised her eyebrows. "Some of the other parties could say that you were given differential treatment. So I volunteered."

"You're doing this for free?" He nodded. "Well, if I win, what's fair to give you?"

He thought for a moment. "I do pro bono work every year." He shrugged. "Your case will help my career. So it's not entirely out of the goodness of my heart."

"You've got to get something for your time."

"How about 10 percent?"

"Done."

#############################################

Carol Jordan was reeling. Not only did _that woman_ reject her offer, but she was suing for all sorts of things. Carol could admit that she made a mistake, but this was ridiculous. Her lawyer had informed her that ZNN would be suing her for the amount of their settlement with Samantha Walking Tall.

Anger burned through the young woman. In the first few days after her…mistake…she'd felt bad. But the whole television special had just been salt in the wound. That woman had gained a following of fans, and yet she'd dropped out of view. _What better way to get attention than to say you don't want it and disappear._

If Carol had been able to think clearly by this point, she would have realized she was not thinking clearly. Sam had had nothing to do with the series, with the exception of a single interview. She'd not even provided her own defense, or any names of people to help.

In the place of intelligence and common sense were anger, spite, and a determination for vindication. She knew from papers that had been served to her that Sam was _living_ with the esteemed Director Gibbs. Which made her wonder what dirt she'd find if she hired a PI. _NO_ woman moved in with a man when there was a scandal going on, and this had turned into a scandal in Carol's mind.

######################################

Tony and Ziva were finally home. Ziva was under orders to stay sitting or lying in bed most of the day. She could be up for a while, but not for long. Sam had chuckled as Ziva argued in the hospital that she'd already been down for two weeks. With both Oxycodone and Percocet, she'd be hard pressed to stay awake.

The downstairs bathroom had gone through a temporary transformation that had Gibbs being thankful that he didn't have to use it. The tub had an attachment jammed onto the end of the faucet to turn it into a moveable shower head. There was a seat that was designed to sit half in the tub, and half out on the floor, allowing the bather to slide into the tub. Even the toilet had received a lift, as it would be easier for all three of the agents to use. Jack had grinned as he handed tools down to Sam as she reworked the plumbing, set the new wax seal, and had the stool working in minutes.

Gibbs grumbled at the recliners that found their way into his living room, making up a sort of nursing center for the day. He didn't understand it at all until he came home and found all three of his agents comfortably resting with various pillows and angles to their seats. TV trays were sitting by each chair, and to his amusement, the TV was turned to cartoons, and all of his drugged up "kids" were smiling and giggling as the Coyote chased the Road Runner.

In the kitchen, Sam and Jack were getting dinners plated up. He watched as Sam cut Tony's and Ziva's into bite sized pieces. Jack was finishing getting Tim's plated when he looked up and saw his son.

"Hey, Leroy."

"Hi, Dad, Sam."

"You hungry?"

"In a bit. Gonna go grab a shower." With that, he was up the stairs and starting to enjoy his evening before his injured guests knew he was home.

####################################

Carol emptied her savings account to retain the services of a private investigator. She didn't tell the man the name of his target, only that she wanted pictures of everything she did that he could see. Kyle spent a week on the job, snapping pictures, writing times, and snooping like he'd done every day for the last 18 months. He'd just started working after receiving his license, and this Carol woman was willing to pay good money.

It wasn't until his girlfriend was looking for something on his desk that he knew who he was following. She had come to him, hands on her hips and attitude in her stance, demanding answers as to why he was picking on "that poor lady". When he asked her how she knew the woman, she dragged him to her computer and brought up the recent interview. Kyle blanched and called his client, telling her that he'd turn over what he had so far, but that she needed to find someone new.

When Carol saw the pictures, she nearly danced. She'd caught the bitch. The first picture showed Sam helping Tony change his shirt. She tossed the one that showed Tony becoming ill on himself from the medication. She went through the stack, setting the "good" pictures on one side, and the "useless" ones on the other.

Armed with the pictures that showed only Tim, Tony, Jack, and on occasion Jethro, she went to her friendly lawyer. She discussed firing her current lawyer, and to her surprise, her friend discouraged her. Of course, she had no idea that it was because her friend didn't want to get caught up in the mess.


	41. Chapter 41

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar for being my awesome beta!

Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, PM'd, or favorited! I think I got all reviews answered, and if not, THANKS!

###########################################

Kyle sat staring out of his apartment window. All of his previous jobs had been from angry wives with specific men they were looking for. He had assumed the woman he was taking pictures of was the "other woman", and that Carol was looking for proof.

He'd wondered once or twice why there were so many people in the house, but hey, what did he care? He was getting paid. After all, who knew what Carol was looking for. It was his job to take pictures, not to ask questions.

He realized he was wrong in not doing his own background check, to be sure that the house supposedly belonging to the woman was actually hers. When he checked, he found that the house was titled to one Leroy Jethro Gibbs. And a check of Leroy Jethro Gibbs showed that he was the director of a federal agency. Kyle sighed. What had he gotten himself in to?

And all so he could pay their rent two months in advance. Now the check he'd been given by his client sat uncashed on his desk. He only knew one way to make it right, and that was to basically rat himself out. He wasn't sure of who he should talk to, but a bit of research had him convinced that Director Gibbs was the one he needed to talk to.

After all, it was the older man's house that he'd driven by countless times in the last few days with his high speed "Trust me. This baby can take pictures on the move. You'll be able to do your job on the fly if you have to" camera. Kyle wondered briefly how much trouble he'd be in.

############################################

Sam rolled her eyes as Tony egged Tim into a silly argument about cartoons from the 80's. When she heard the new lead agent mention Rainbow Brite, she laughed out loud. That doll had shown up in every garage sale she'd been to for the past 20 years.

"You really watched that?" Tim was incredulous.

"No." There was a pause, and Sam and Jack exchanged glances. "My friends sisters watched it. I just kept them company."

"Give it up, son." Jack called out. "You've lost this round."

"DiNozzo's never lose."

"No, they just win in last place." Ziva was declared the winner, even though she'd been asleep for most of the conversation.

#############################################

Joseph was having a rotten day. Not only had his dad not been home since moving his aunt off the farm, but his mom had called crying the night before, because he'd served her with divorce papers. He'd called his dad at the number she'd given him from the forms, and had been cussed out for "ruining" his dad's life.

He found himself wishing he could go to his aunts for the weekend. He wished he could sweat. He wished he could eat in peace, and sleep in a comfortable bed that had been his since childhood. But reality and responsibility demanded that he go home and help his mom pack up his dads crap.

Part of him didn't want to call his dad by that title anymore. He didn't even want to talk to the idiot anymore. Anger at the man had been building, and now he let it rear its head.

Joseph took off running. He didn't care where he went, or what he passed. He simply wanted to run and leave the anger he carried behind. Long after his lungs burned and his legs throbbed, his anger remained.

He knew his aunt was busy, and he could expect nothing from her, but he needed to talk to her. After a shower and a bottle of water, he dialed. He grinned for a moment, still amused that An' Sam had a cell.

####################################

Gibbs had dealt with call after call, and it was finally the end of his day. The only call he needed to return was to a private investigator who'd called a couple of hours before, absolutely determined that he needed to speak with Director Leroy Gibbs. Obviously, it wasn't someone he knew.

He looked at the clock and grumbled. It was after 10 PM, and while he understood that it was important that he call the man back, he wondered if he should wait until morning. He glanced at his calendar, and decided that wasn't an option. His next day was packed with meetings.

Kyle looked down with surprise when his cell rang. He looked at the number, not recognizing it, but upset wives usually did call late at night when their husbands were out. He answered as professionally as he could, stifling his yawn. When he heard the voice on the other end, his exhaustion vanished.

"This is Director Gibbs. You called and left a message for me to call earlier today?"

"Yes, Sir. Thank you for calling me back." Kyle was speaking so quickly that he stumbled over his words. "I need to talk to you about a recent job I did, and I want to warn you." He realized what he'd said and bit his lip. What a way to engender confidence and trust.

"Warn me? About what?" Kyle took a deep breath and began to explain how all of his jobs dealt with angry wives, and how he thought Sam was "the other woman", so he'd taken pictures, but once he realized who she was, he quit.

Gibbs stayed silent as he returned to his office and looked at his appointment book for the morning. He made notes for Cynthia to change two of his appointments, freeing three hours between nine and noon. He then asked the still talking Kyle to bring in copies of the pictures and any other evidence he may have.

"I, um, didn't cash the check yet." He cleared his throat. "I don't want money for this, and I'm sorry I ever took the job. I should have done a check, but I don't know about people until I'm gathering information, you know?"

"I understand, and yes, bring that check, paperwork, pictures, everything."

"Yes, Sir." He paused. "I'll see you at 9." Gibbs simply hung up.

########################################

Gibbs fumed the entire way home. He couldn't figure out how the guy got pictures. The front window curtain was often pulled aside to let light in, but he had agents in the house on protection. Every few minutes, two would go out and do a check of the back yard and the other side of the fence. Where had they missed? What had he missed? Perhaps this was part of his reason for being Director just now. Finding unprotected holes in security protocols so this didn't happen in a life-threatening situation.

He was watching the road from his perch in the back seat, and saw for the first time the notice about the open house. His gut clenched with guilt as he realized it was the house directly across from his. Had he noticed before, he could have warned his agents to watch for unusual activity. Then he felt anger. The agents should have done that on their own.

When Paul pulled in, Gibbs opened his door and stormed out. He was beyond angry. The more the thought about it, the angrier he got. Gibbs blew through his front door and pointed to the first agent he saw.

"With me," he all but growled. When he had the young man in the basement, he started talking, his voice growing louder with every word. Gibbs finally got his answers, however, they were far less than satisfactory. All he really got was more questions. Were other teams really this poorly trained for protection details? The kid he had just reamed out thought he was following protocols.

"Where's your partner?"

"He's outside doing a perimeter check." Gibbs eyes flew wide.

"He's outside after dark, you don't have an earwig in, so you're not getting reports from him, and is he patched in with anyone at NCIS?"

"No, Sir." The kid looked like he might wet himself. Gibbs headed upstairs, knowing where he'd start correcting the holes in security. Proper training.

In the kitchen, he found Sam muttering to herself over a sheet of paper filled with lines, columns and figures. She was worrying her lip in her teeth, something he'd not seen since she was working on selling off the farm.

"What's wrong?" She looked up.

"I could ask you the same thing." Gibbs nodded, poured himself a cup of coffee, and sat across from her.

"You first." She rolled her eyes.

"At some point, you need to make me stand on my own."

"Not yet. So what's wrong?"

"Vernon gave Mary divorce papers today." Gibbs groaned.

"That man really is stupid, isn't he?"

"You have no idea." They sat quietly for a few minutes.

"So what's the papers about?"

"What are you so upset about? You tell me, and then I'll tell you." He glared at her.

"You don't fight fair."

"I'm a woman, I don't have to." That drew a smirk. "Open up."

"You're not going to like it."

"All the more reason to spill it quicker." She sat back, sighing heavily. "I don't know what else could go wrong today, though."

"Oh, I can think of several. Some of which I just discussed with that nervous young man."

"And the rest?"

"I had an interesting phone call, and I'm going to need you to come to NCIS with me in the morning. I'll bring you home by two."

"An interesting phone call has you needing me in at NCIS in the morning?" Gibbs nodded and told her about the pictures and who hired the man.

"She gave my lawyer, Chris, a settlement offer about 10 days ago." He looked at her closely.

"You didn't tell me that."

"No. If I did, you'd have hunted her down."

"That bad, huh?" She just nodded. "What was it?"

"Five thousand."

"What?" His voice thundered, and Sam motioned for him to quiet.

"You'll wake them up."

"Not with the drugs they're on." Sam smirked.

"If they do wake up, you get to figure out how to give them more painkiller when it's before their medication times."

"Is that a threat?"

"No. Just telling you what will happen." They had a friendly stare-off, before Gibbs returned to the discussion they actually needed to be having.

"So he's coming in tomorrow morning at 9, and he's going to bring in the pictures and all of the so called evidence he's gathered."

"Just how close was he watching us?"

"Probably not that close. If he was watching us close, he'd have known that the three of them were recovering. I don't know that he did."

"Great." Sam rolled her eyes. "So he's got pictures of us doing whatever, and they could be translated into whatever anyone wanted." Gibbs simply looked back, his face closed and serious.


	42. Chapter 42

Disclaimer: Don't own it!

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar, my fabulous beta!

Note: Still AU and OOC! Thanks for reading!

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Sam was as nervous as a cat as she walked into NCIS. She went through security, and worried the whole time that she would have some legal problem that would pop up and ban her from the building. With her problems she'd had in the past, she wondered if she'd been charged with something she'd missed.

When she was handed a visitors pass, she breathed a sigh of relief and followed Gibbs to the elevator. This was yet another contraption she was getting used to. They were nice, but the tight boxes made her worry. She wondered what would happen if it stopped between floors.

Gibbs leaned forward and flipped a switch. To her surprise, the car stopped and grew dark with the exception of low emergency lights. Gibbs settled against the wall, motioning with his head for her to come. When she settled next to him, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"You'll be fine." Sam nodded, not trusting her voice. "Take a breath, get centered. We're going to a conference room, and what's his name will be shown in. We've got a couple of minutes."

"I'm just so ready for this to be over."

"I know." He drew her close, pressing a kiss to her temple. "He's warning us, giving us everything she has, maybe more." She started to chuckle before standing up and tugging on her sleeves.

"Now I know why I hung out with goats. They don't play games." With a grin, he restarted the elevator.

###################################

Kyle stepped off the elevator, following his guide to a small conference room. He sat, wondering where the Director was. He spun around, wondered if it would be okay to get a cup of coffee, decided it'd be safer not to, and shuffled papers and pictures, trying to decide exactly what to talk about first.

The door opened, and the silver haired man from his photos walked in, followed by the woman he'd been shutter-bugging. He rose, holding out his hand. Neither of them took it. Gibbs nodded to Sam, and she sat on the other side of the table. Kyle watched as the Director walked to the coffee pot and poured three cups. He slid one to the PI before he handed Sam hers. He didn't bother to offer cream or sugar.

"So, what do you have?" Gibbs was all business.

Kyle swallowed hard and explained how he often took cases with angry wives who wanted to find their philandering husbands or the women they spent their time with. Neither of his companions even responded. Only their hard gazes let him know they were listening.

"I didn't realize at first who I was taking pictures of. I'm not usually home to watch the news, and my girlfriend catches me up on the big stuff." He cleared his throat. "She told me about you, but I didn't see any pictures or video, so I didn't recognize you until she yelled at me when she was looking for something in my desk." He looked down at his fingers. "Sorry."

"I'm glad someone was there to talk some sense into you." Sam's voice was chilly. "I've got a good lawyer, and he loves to sue people." Kyle swallowed hard.

"What did you bring besides a story?" This question came from Gibbs.

Kyle slid the file over to Gibbs, letting the older man take possession of it.

"Everything is there. I can answer any questions you have."

"I have several. First, how did you get photos of the inside of my house?" Kyle shifted in his chair.

"I went to the open house that was held across from yours. I got these photos upstairs while someone else was talking to the realtor." He pointed to several with slightly fuzzier resolution. "Those were from my car."

"You couldn't have parked out there without being noticed."

"I, uh, I didn't park." Kyle lowered his gaze. "I have a good camera, and I can take pictures as I drive."

"So those came from a drive by?"

"Some of them, yes." Kyle nodded. "It's what I do. I'm so sorry."

"You should be." Sam's eyes held the anger of three decades of abuse. "Do you realize that you were invading the privacy of everyone in the house? That you were taking pictures of people who have been injured and are recovering? That you, through wanting to make a quick buck have once again made me feel unsafe in my own home?" She leaned forward. "Oh, wait. Because of people like you, I don't have a home anymore."

Kyle visibly flinched. Rather than backing down and letting him think about what she'd already said, Sam let anger win out and ranted on. She felt some dam break, and the hapless young man sitting across from her was the recipient of the storm.

Gibbs just let her rant. He thought it was about time she really said what was on her mind. She'd been far too nice in his opinion. As he listened, he flipped through the file, surprised at how much information was in it. Of course, a lot of it was skewed, as he had no idea of what was going on, and had to guess, but he'd done a good job of marking down times and where he had taken certain pictures.

When Sam finally finished, Gibbs took his turn. He watched with a sense of satisfaction as Kyle sank lower in his chair as he continued what she had started. When he came to consequences, the young man blanched.

"You now know that without doing some basic work that should have been done, such as getting the name of the person you were following as well as checking your facts on who owned that house." His eyes bored through Kyle. "I am angry that as a "professional", you dropped the ball. You screwed up, and that screw up made you invade the privacy of my home, and the agents I consider my family." He paused. "My father is in some of these pictures. Do you know what he was doing?"

"No, Sir."

"Don't you think, with as easy as finding information proved to be, that you should have gotten Sam's name and looked for grudges between the two?" He held up the last three pages of Kyle's folder. "You did it after you invaded our privacy, took photos without permission, and proceeded to hand them over to someone looking to cause more problems?" Kyle nodded, his head bowed low.

"Is that what you were taught?" Kyle shrugged.

"Some of the instructors I had told how to do things sloppy yet legal, and others were strict and by the manual, never giving hints on how to do things any way but right." He cleared his throat. "I got lazy and sloppy, because cheating husbands have been my only jobs. I just assumed…"

"You assumed instead of checked." Gibbs nearly shouted. "You weren't at a bar! You weren't out on a public road! You were in a residential area, and you should have checked." He paused a moment.

"I'm going to talk to legal, but I can assure you there will be some charges pressed." Kyle gasped quietly. "This sort of thing can't be overlooked. We'll work on a deal, as you have obviously come forward." He waited until Kyle looked up. "Will you be willing to testify against Carol Jordan, as well as allow us to keep this file as evidence?"

"Yes."

"Good answer." He pulled out his cell phone and called to security, asking for a guard to escort Kyle from the building. His next call was to the legal department, where he discussed the file. Sam sat silently, waiting for him to finish.

"What sort of deal are you looking at for him?" Her voice was quiet, an almost surprising change from her shouts of earlier.

"Well, he came and turned himself in so he could warn us when we didn't know there was a problem."

"I know." Sam sighed. "So that makes him different from the others. He was lazy and gullible, not intending to hurt us."

"He still should have done his homework."

"I'm not denying that, Gibbs. I'm saying that he made a mistake. He wasn't doing this out of spite." They were quiet for a moment.

"So what do you think is fair? Should he walk away from all of this? Or should he pay some price?" Sam smirked, thinking back to how Kyle had shrunk in his seat like a terrified teenager after breaking curfew.

"He didn't cash the check, and she'd paid him well." Gibbs agreed. "So I don't think you should press charges. He did the right thing. He came, he's willing to take a punishment, but, like Mr. Southerland said, if I don't go after all, I may lose the one." Gibbs nodded, just waiting for her decision. "Can you maybe get him community service? Perhaps have to go through some classes again?"

"I can see about that. Are you sure?" Sam thought a moment.

"Yeah, Gibbs. I am. There's a huge difference between what Carol and Phyllis and everyone else has done and what he did. He's done his best to correct a mistake."

"I'm still not happy about him taking pictures of my home."

"And that's something you have to consider." Sam turned in her chair so they were facing one another. "He's made things right for taking the pictures, but not for invading your home, or for handing the photos over to Carol. However, we have the knowledge of what she's planning."

Gibbs ran his hands over his face. He'd only been Director for six weeks, and some days, he hated it.

############################

Tim's stitches had come out several days before, and he was returning to the doctor today to check a red spot that had developed under his knee. It could be nothing, or it could be something. He also wanted to ask if plastic surgery would be possible or beneficial. His leg had healed with bumps and dips, and he was bothered by it.

Sam wasn't back yet, and Jack was reluctant to leave until she was there. Tim was considering calling and rescheduling his appointment when Sam and Gibbs pulled in. Tim smiled to himself and snapped his phone shut. _Should've known the boss'd never let me down._

He called to Jack, and the older man had his jacket on and was ready to head out the door by the time Sam and Gibbs were on the porch. The four exchanged greetings, and Jack filled Sam in on the morning, including Tony's newfound ability to put weight on his leg.

"Has he been up?"

"Off and on all morning." Jack chuckled. "Good luck getting him to stay in bed. He's bored."

Gibbs chuckled. "You thought you'd keep him down? He came back to work a week early after the plague." Sam looked at him, her eyes wide. "Gets blown up by a car the same day and crawls out of the blast area." I thought he was a gonner when he collapsed. Not him." He looked to Sam, shaking his head. "Stinker was back to work the next day."

Sam looked between the two Gibbs men.

"You weren't telling fish stories?"

"Nope." Jack grinned and went down the stairs. He got into his car and backed out as Tim waved from his seat in the back where he stretched out comfortably.


	43. Chapter 43

Disclaimer: Still don't own.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar, my overworked beta! Love you! ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: heeheehee A shout out to stareagle50. :) We had a running, hilarious conversation earlier about how she's either tuned in, or is writing the story. heeheehee So while I really don't have a cowriter, I'll name you as an honorary cowriter. :) Just cuz I think you found my story line and send me cliff notes of my cliff notes. :) *waves* *giggles* I'll have to throw in some other stuff just to surprise you. :)

##########################

Joseph sat with his head in his hands. He'd just gotten off of the phone with his grandfather. Even though the man had great wisdom, there was something missing. After a moment, he pulled out his notebook and began writing.

After so many years of putting his thoughts and feelings down to his aunt and uncle, he could express himself better with written words. He sat for a moment, tears standing in his eyes. With his aunt having a phone, he'd stopped writing and had started calling. The phone was nice. It really was, but it wasn't a good way for them to really talk. He couldn't open up to her about his true concerns over it. It was about time he went back to the familiar. Too much had changed.

_Dear An' Sam,_

_I'm confused. I'm not sure where to start talking. I've never felt like this, and I know it's new for you, too. I feel like I've failed in life, and I've only just started. I owe you money, and I can't pay it back. My father is divorcing my mother, and it's my fault. He kept saying, even when I was little, that life was good before I was born. My mom has said the same thing when she's been angry. Anger and alcohol brings out peoples true feelings. _

_But I didn't start this to go into the poor me's. You don't do that, neither should I. I want to come visit, but I can't. You're not just a couple hours' drive away anymore. And that makes me angry just as much as it makes me sad._

_I miss Uncle Ellis more than I miss my own father. Does that make me a terrible son? Does it make me a terrible son to be glad that he's gone? That he can't hit my mom anymore? That he can't hit me anymore? Does it make me a bad son to not want to know where he is? To not care?_

_I want to help my mom, but I'm not sure what the difference is between helping and solving all of the problems? I went through the letters you and Uncle Ellis wrote to one another. Spent two days in Grandpa's garage, and found the ledger._

_How long were you and Uncle Ellis supporting my parents? Me? Has he been like this since I was little? Is that why there was sometimes only a little for dinner, and then Mom would get a letter from you, and we'd be full the next night? I thought it was just because Mom got money from Dad. He always had money for his beer and cigarettes. I didn't know that's all he had money for. _

_And it makes me feel worse. And more confused. _

_I called Mom, and she's not sure of what she'll do. I hope she doesn't try to get him back, but if she does, what should I do? I don't want him anywhere near my sisters. But not for any specific reason. I'm just that angry at him. _

_I guess I'll ask for some sort of advice. Got any? _

_I love you, An' Sam. _

_Joseph_

Sam sat reading three days later, her eyes misty. She'd never intended for Joseph to find out that she and Ellis had been helping his family so much. It wasn't Mary's fault, and it certainly wasn't the kids' fault. Yes, they had rolled their eyes when Mary had called to announce her last two pregnancies. But the girls were precious, and they'd have not traded them for anything.

She set the letter down, deciding that she would think on it and write back after everyone had eaten dinner. Tim had been off of his feet again for a couple of days after needing to have a missed stitch removed. The skin had grown over it, but a simple steri-strip was enough to keep it closed and healing following the simple procedure.

He'd been encouraged by his talk regarding the plastic surgery. While all of the scars couldn't be removed, several could, and he'd one day be able to wear shorts again without feeling self-conscious.

Ziva was doing better, being able to get up for a while without any major trouble. She couldn't be up for long, and felt far better when she was reclining part way. Tony was off of the fun meds, and to Sam's relief, was being good about staying in bed. Her little evil plan worked.

"_Anthony DiNozzo!" Sam had gotten right behind Tony before shouting. "You know you're supposed to be in bed!"_

"_I'm bored."_

"_That's no excuse." She pointed to his recliner. "Go. Sit. Down." He rolled his eyes, and she lifted a brow. "You think I'm kidding?"_

"_Maybe."_

"_See if I'm joking when proud flesh breaks out on that leg. Or on your arm."_

"_Proud flesh?"_

"_Yeah. The start of gangrene." He blanched. "You bump those stitches, or get some bacteria rubbed in there from brushing up against something dirty, and you've just taken your life in your hands."_

"_You're kidding." She squared off, her face stern. He 'd looked to Gibbs for help, and the man had just shrugged. Tony looked around for a bit before slowly limping back to his seat. After that, he hadn't moved until dinner._

Gibbs arrived home in time for dinner, smirking at his "kids" sitting around with their TV trays and well-balanced meals instead of take-out and beer. Tony grimaced and saluted with his mandatory glass of milk. Ziva was having less of an issue with the glass of milk with each meal, but the looks of horror on Tony's face made Gibbs glad he could sometimes be home for meals.

He walked in to the kitchen and found Sam and Jack sitting at the table with newspapers and puzzles. Without a word, Sam rose and fixed him a plate, getting plenty of the dreaded vegetables dished for him. His lip curled reflexively.

"Eat them. You need to keep healthy, Mister Director."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He cut into his chicken breast. "How was it around here today?" Jack chuckled.

"Your two boys can argue over anything."

"They often do. Ziva settle it?"

"With more colorful threats than I've ever heard." Sam just sat listening. "Can she really kill someone with a paperclip?" Gibbs shrugged.

"Dunno. Never wanted to find out." Sam smirked. "You're quiet."

"Nothing to really say." She took the last bite of her meal and walked into the backyard. The Gibbs men watched her leave, both feeling concern.

"She been like that all day?"

"Just since the mail came." Gibbs nodded and rose to get a drink. It was then that he saw the letter from Joseph. He looked out the window to where she sat against one of his trees, facing away from the house, seemingly staring at the wooden fence.

He picked up the letter and read it. Still holding it, he sat at the table and read it again. Gibbs sighed and took his glasses off, wondering what, if anything, he should do. His mind made up, he grabbed pen and paper and began to write a letter.

Jackson didn't know what was going on, but he'd already learned that these two communicated in a way he'd most likely never understand. Rather than try to figure it out, he went to the living room and settled into the only available chair. He rolled his eyes and accepted a handful of cold microwavable popcorn from Tony as _Casablanca _began to play.

#################################

Sam sat outside until she was too cold to sit any longer. She'd gone through anger and heartbreak, working through her emotions the best she could. She desperately wanted to sweat, but it just wasn't possible here. She'd tried smudging, but it didn't have the same effect.

Sam had always tried hard to not hate and to find the best in people. But she was finding it harder to do. Especially when Carol Jordan was involved. The woman had done everything she could to cause pain and heartache for Sam. And she couldn't understand that sort of blind hatred.

Even Phyllis had talked about Sam to disguise her own activities. She'd wondered what Carol was doing. What did she hope to gain? Was all of this to prove she was right? Tears rolled down Sam's face as she thought the situation through.

Not only had they come after her, but the mess was now affecting her family, both new and old. Yes, it was probably for the best that Vernon was leaving. It still didn't make it easy, though. And to spy on Gibbs' house and the agents she was caring for…well, that was beyond low.

She'd heard the door open moments after she'd come outside, and knew "her" agent was outside. That knowledge didn't make her feel any better. They were inexperienced and unsure. It wasn't until she was standing against the tree trying to get her right leg to wake back up that he came outside.

"You ok?" She shrugged.

"Can I use the phrase "I don't know", or is that not allowed?"

"Depends." He stepped closer. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"Everything." She paused a moment before going through a short version of the rant she'd just been having in her mind. He listened as she talked about being worried in case Carol tried something like that again. He held up a hand. She held her next words.

"With all of the other garbage she's pulled, we were able to arrest Carol today. She's being forced to have a psych eval." He shrugged. "It's the best we can do right now."

"Good." Sam wiped her eyes. "I just want her gone and out of my life."

"She will be, don't worry. The judge signed a protection order, anyway. If she breaks that once, by any way possible, it'll be a felony." He watched relief flood over his friend.

###########################################

Joseph checked his mail every day for nearly a week. He knew it would take longer, as Sam was farther away, but he hoped an answer would come soon. On the eighth day, he opened his box and grinned. Two letters sat in his box along with student notices and confirmation of his next semester's classes.

He sat staring at them, not sure which he should read first. Gibbs letter was bound to be amusing. The man always had some strange story to tell. Especially since Tony was hopped up on drugs. That thought alone had Joseph chuckling. Tony was weird enough without adding medication. He chose An' Sam's.

_My Dearest Joseph,_

_You're not a bad son. You may be angry and hurt, but you are not a bad son. _

_My advice? You have a life to live, Joseph. Stay in school, help when you can, but don't try to solve all of your family's problems. I know you won't like me saying this, but your mom has become accustomed to letting others take care of her. If you step up, like I know you want to, you'll be stuck there, and never see your dreams. _

_Help when you can, take care of yourself the best you can, and remember that you had nothing to do with your sisters' births. They aren't your responsibility, your problem, or yours to provide for. You are a child in the family, the same as they are. Just because you're older doesn't mean you have to give up your life unless that is a choice YOU make. _

_As always, I love you, and I will support whatever decision you make._

_Your An' Sam_

Joseph took a deep breath and opened the second letter.

_Hey kid._

_Remember what we talked about when up in the loft? You are a good son. _

_The young man that I saw working out on his Aunt's farm wouldn't have done all of that if he wasn't a good son. Sometimes a father makes mistakes, and those mistakes hurt. Feeling that pain doesn't make you bad. It makes you human._

_You've got my number if you need it. _

_Gibbs_

Out of the envelope fell a check for $200.00. A note was paper clipped to it. _Knowing you, you already sent your cash home. Eat, or I'll have to listen to your aunt worry about how skinny you are._

Joseph grinned and rubbed his aching stomach. Gibbs already knew him too well. It had been nearly two days since his last full meal.


	44. Chapter 44

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Wish I did.

Note: Thanks, Headbanger! You got two chapters done in a day! I'd say I work you too hard, but then I'd have to stop updating so often. So, um, keep up the good work? Lol Love you!

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"I don't need a psychiatric evaluation!" Carol sat across from a sighing therapist. The more Carol argued, the more the irritating woman insisted that yes, she did. "I'm not crazy."

"No one ever said you were." Coleen sat back, setting her glasses on the table. "This evaluation is simply to find out what you were thinking when you hired the private investigator and what you're thinking and feeling now."

"I'm gonna make it easy on you, then. I'm pissed. That bitch is a whore, and I'm going to prove it! Kyle has other pictures and is going to speak for her in court? Well, that just tells me that she got to him, or that…_Director_… did and they paid him off."

"Do you really believe that?" Coleen made a few notes, barely flinching when Carol screamed. "Why scream? I just asked you a question."

"You know why!" Carol paced. "There is no way someone can have that many rumors and there not be truth to them. I _know_ she's done _something_ to deserve all of this."

"Well, I know that you feel that way, and that's part of what I want you to tell me about." Carol rolled her eyes.

"No, it's not. You want me to tell you how much I hate her, and how much I wish I could vindicate myself and my reputation."

"Is that what this is all about?" Carol sat down and crossed her arms over her chest, clamping her mouth tight. "The longer you refuse to talk, the longer you get to keep me company."

Coleen waited. And waited. Four hours later, she called an end to the session, telling Carol that she'd be back early the next morning.

"Screw you. You have no right to keep me here. I have rights." Coleen nodded.

"You do have rights, Ms. Jordan. Unfortunately, you chose to become a very real threat to someone that you are already in legal trouble for harassing and slandering." Carol huffed and flicked her off. "It is _my_ job to see if you are competent to stand trial, if you are responsible for your actions, and if you are a danger to yourself or others."

"I'm not danger to anyone but _HER_!" Carol's voice was shrill with anger.

"And that, Ms. Jordan, is why you'll be our guest tonight."

###################################################

Gibbs had files he had to sign off on, but he was glad to be signing them at his own table and not at his office desk. As comfortable as the chair was, he could only handle it for so long. The fact that he'd been at work nearly every night until ten and he left for work by seven had nothing to do with it.

His phone rang, and he looked down at the caller ID. Not a number he knew, but these days, that was fairly normal.

"Gibbs."

"Hello, Director Gibbs. This is Coleen McGarland."

"Oh, how are you, Doctor?"

"I'm well." She chuckled. "I just got to spend several hours tonight with the lovely Ms. Carol Jordan."

"And?"

"She's too angry right now to really talk. From her body language, I believe she knows the difference between right and wrong. However, she has fixated on Samantha Walking Tall." She paused. "She seems to believe that Mrs. Walking Tall is the root of all of her troubles."

"Is she dangerous?"

"At this point, I would have to say that yes, she is dangerous to Mrs. Walking Tall and anyone she would be with if Ms. Jordan were to…" Gibbs cut her off.

"She's in custody, right?"

"Yes, and she will remain in custody until I can be sure she is not a threat to herself or anyone else."

"Thanks for the call, Doctor."

"You're welcome, Director."

Sam entered the room and poured herself a cup of coffee. She'd made himself scarce when he had set up camp at the table.

"Got some news." She turned around, her eyebrows raised. "Carol is in custody for at least the night."

He watched as her frame folded, seeming to release stress she didn't know she held. Her face grew red, her breath was shaky, and he started to worry. When he stood and moved to where she stood, he found himself held tight as she cried in relief.

His arms came around her, and he moved them so he was leaning against the counter. He stroked her back, telling her that she was going to be alright. She settled down onto his chest, letting the serenity he didn't recognize in himself wash over her.

"What can I do, Sam?"

"I need to sweat, but there's nowhere to go." Her voice was broken and needy. She was humiliated that she would sound so weak. He thought for a moment.

"We can fix that."

"How?"

"Well, it won't be exact, but I think I can come up with something." He pressed a kiss to her hair. "Should have thought of it sooner."

"Thank you, and no, you shouldn't have. It's not something you usually have." He chuckled.

"So true. But it's something you need." They stood, simply holding one another, for the better part of an hour.

#########################################

The next afternoon, a truck from Home Depot pulled in and knocked at the door. After a short discussion with Jack and the older man handing off a sheet of paper, they disappeared to the back yard.

Sam shot him a questioning look. He shrugged. She tilted her head and put her hands on her hips.

"Oh, I couldn't keep quiet when my wife did that, either," he teased. "Think of something you told him you needed last night." Her eyes grew wide and she looked out the back window.

Sure enough, a low structure that was as close to a replica of her little lodge was being constructed in the back corner of the yard. Her eyes misted over, even as she hoped it would be finished by that night.

#####################################

Dinner was finished, dishes were done, and the three "Limp Along Cassidy's" were watching Batman Forever. Jack had a puzzle book at the table and smiled at Sam as she walked past. The far-away look in her eye was something he'd never seen. She smiled and nodded to him, motioning to "her" agent to follow.

He was properly outfitted this time. An earwig, he was armed, and was aware of what was going on all around the house. He settled back to keep watch as a song in a foreign tongue floated to his ears. Then all fell silent.

When Gibbs came home later, he relieved the agent watching and sipped a beer, chatting with Paul while they waited for her to emerge. He'd done some research, and was glad to see that it was facing the east. Paul became concerned when two hours had passed, and she still wasn't coming out.

"Don't worry about it. She's fine."

"You sure?"

"Oh, yeah. She's fine."

#################################

Within the lodge, Sam sat quietly beside the raccoon she had known since childhood. She had already felt her spirit heal, but wasn't ready to leave just yet. She reached out and touched her playful friend. He chirped and purred in that way that raccoons have.

When she felt the heat start to make her light headed and drowsy, she opened the door. Her eyes opened, and she saw her protector before her.

Gibbs stood, his knees creaking in the cold. He crossed his lawn and offered her an arm and a flashlight to find her way safely back home.


	45. Chapter 45

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks, Headbanger! Love you! Dude. heeheehee ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

##################################

The next morning, Sam was in the kitchen when Gibbs came down for his first cup of coffee. He was slightly concerned, as she'd gone to bed sometime after midnight, and it was only 5:30. After her sweat, he was sure she'd be relaxed and would sleep.

"Morning." He kept his voice quiet, being careful to not wake Ziva, who was still sleeping in the recliner for comforts sake.

"Morning." She sounded chipper, but it was her smile that relieved him. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome." He opened the cupboard and nearly laughed as he saw a huge cup inside with the words _Texas Thimble _written in large letters. "For me?"

"Yep. Saw that yesterday while grocery shopping, and by the time I got done laughing, I'd talked myself into getting it." He grinned and began to fill it. Over half of the pot went into his new cup, and he beamed. He wondered briefly if she'd get upset if he took it to the office. He'd have to take fewer trips to the coffee maker.

"So…" She looked uncomfortable for a moment. "How much do I owe you for that little present?" He shrugged.

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that. You came up with all sorts of excuses to not have me pay you back for all of those clothes."

"I let you pay half."

"Yeah, but I wear them all."

"I don't know. Might make a fashion statement one day." She tossed a dishtowel at him.

"I'm serious. How much was it?"

"Less than you've spent on groceries for all of us to eat while you've been here. Less than they would have paid in insurance deductibles had they stayed in the hospital longer or had to get someone to help them."

"Bull crap." She squared off with him.

"I'll tell you, but it's your choice if you pay it all back."

"Fine."

"Including construction and delivery, it was $1800.00."

"I'll have it for you tonight."

"You don't have to pay me back. You're working for your keep."

"Yeah? So is your dad." Gibbs rolled his eyes and let it go.

##############################

Carol was already dreading the day. But, she figured she'd better give the answers the woman wanted. Her mind turned to the reason for her current situation, and she nearly growled in anger.

When she was escorted to see Coleen, she had her answers all worked out. She'd show the woman exactly how all of this was _really_ Samantha's fault, and not hers. To her, it made perfect sense.

"Good morning." Coleen was pleasant, hoping to not have a repeat of last evening.

"Good morning." Carol sat. "I'm ready to answer your questions now."

"Wonderful." Coleen wasn't sure what Carol was up to, but she was all ears. "I guess we should start with what actually led us here today."

"Which is?" Carol feigned innocence.

"When you were spoken to by two members of the local police force regarding the restraining orders put in place, barring you from contact of any sort with Samantha Walking Tall, you threatened suicide, because, as the report states, "My life is over. I have to prove this." You then proceeded to try to get a Taser from Officer MacCallum."

"A Taser. Like I could really kill myself with a Taser."

"Why did you do it then?"

"To make a point."

"What point were you hoping to make?"

Carol sat back with a smug expression, explaining her need to prove she was right with her "interview" at the farm. During the course of the discussion, Coleen asked questions, and with the answers, she was certain that Carol was competent, merely fixated. Unfortunately, her fixation was dangerous for her target.

Carol had replaced her first feelings of remorse with a desperate need to vindicate herself. Her drive for vindication had taken over where Mrs. Walking Tall was concerned. It was if all sense of right and wrong went out the window when it came to her. Two things concerned Coleen, the first of which was how Carol seemed to truly believe that Samantha was the root of all of her troubles, and the second was that she had mentioned twice how she would like to end the problems in her life.

Coleen ended her evaluation and stood.

"Thank you for being so cooperative today."

"Absolutely." Carol smiled, certain that she would be released in moments.

##################################

Tony breathed a sigh of relief as he was given permission to exercise more. His stitches were removed, and while he was sore, he felt pretty good. His arm was a bit of a mess, and it was still very weak, but he could feel when he was touched.

He was without a sling for the first time since the accident. It was surprising to him how heavy his arm was. He'd never really thought of it before. Sam cautioned him against being without it too much on this first day, and after her gangrene warning, he listened.

Ziva was slow moving, but she had worked her way into the kitchen and was learning what she could and could not do for herself. She smiled weakly at Sam when reaching for a mug proved to be too much. Without a word, Sam handed her two Tylenol, got her a cup of coffee, and sent her back to the living room.

Tim had returned to work part time in the cyber-crimes unit until his team was recovered and ready for field work once again. He told the young men he worked with time and again to not call him boss. He was wasting his breath. Those that had worked with him before thought he was the best in the world. To them, he would always be "The Boss," as in Hank, from "A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthurs Court." Tim was a man capable of impossible things.

Pete had been temporarily reassigned, and he was learning the ropes from the new MCRT. He'd already decided they were boring. He'd not realized how much he enjoyed the banter of his true partners until they weren't there teasing and tormenting one another. He wondered if Tony had ever been as bad as the rumors were. He seemed calm. Maybe it was Tim who instigated everything, and Tony just got blamed. It was worth finding out. He looked up and saw Gibbs looking down at the busy floor.

He waved, and Gibbs smirked , raising his coffee in a salute. The older man looked pensive. Lonely almost. Pete had been to visit his teammates most evenings, and he'd seen the relaxed side of Gibbs. Gibbs at home with his former team wasn't the terrifying Gibbs that had NCIS toeing the line.

Jethro stood for a few more minutes, just watching the work being done below. _I miss this. Why the hell do people fight for this job? It's boring, stressful, thankless, and there's way too much paper work. _He watched, not with the view of finding what was being done wrong, but with eyes that looked for things done right. He'd found enough big things that needed tending, he'd worry about the little things later.

###########################################

Carol was fuming. She'd been informed that she would be remaining in custody for the foreseeable future. Simply because she doesn't think the "real" investigation of Samantha Walking Tall was thorough enough.

Who really cared if she made threats? She'd not be able to get close enough to the bitch to do anything. Anyway, she already had her pictures. Good ones, of Sam in a house full of men. One of them even had his shirt off. That proved something.

Carol relaxed a bit, knowing she'd be proven right in the end. She wasn't the first journalist who had been wrongly imprisoned or discriminated against. This was just another one of those times when the wrong person was in trouble.

###################################

Jack was on the highway, happy to be driving home. He'd intended to be gone for only a week, but it had turned into nearly three. He'd called home a few times, confirming orders and getting sales totals and bank deposit totals.

They had done well in his absence. He wasn't sure if he should get them little do-dads, or if a nice bonus would be better. As he drove, he decided on the bonus. Money was always better than something you'd have to dust.

He thought of his son as he drove. Yes, he'd disagreed with Leroy going into the Marines, but it really had been the best choice. Shannon and Kelly's loss had gotten him to NCIS, where he had solved crimes and saved lives for the last twenty years.

Leroy had remarried three times, and it had hurt that he'd learned of his marriages from other people who talked to other people who…he didn't want to think about that part of their relationship. Jack wondered if his son had become so cold and distant after Kelly and Shannon, or if it had been a slow hardening. Whatever it was, though, it seemed to melt away when he was with Sam.

That woman was good for his family. He smirked as he thought back on all of the things she had done to get those kids to stay in bed. His favorite was the gangrene threat for Tony. That one was going to be a great story.

########################################

Sam sat down with a cup of coffee and the crossword. The laundry was done, dishes were soaking, and dinner was in the crock. With a last glance in to where Tony and Ziva argued over the remote, she started her puzzle.


	46. Chapter 46

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks Headbanger for betaing for me! Love you! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: Sorry for the delay. Life is throwing curves again. My apologies. Thanks to everyone who PM'd.

######################################################

Phyllis was having a fairly good day. People were coming back into town after the mess with the federal agents had ended. With a scowl, she thought about the miserable witch who had caused all of this mess in the first place. _Sam Walking Tall_ _and her loud mouth full of complaints and anger._ She was glad the woman was gone. She'd managed to single handedly to destroy this town that she'd always said she loved so much.

Phyllis scoffed to herself as she wiped down tables, getting ready for the lunch rush. _She loved this town so much she destroyed it and followed the money and handsome piece of ass right out of it._ The door opened, and a visitor entered. He carried a briefcase and smiled broadly. She distrusted him immediately.

"Can I help you?" Her voice lacked the smarmy charm she once used.

"Yes, I'm sure you can. I'm looking for a Phyllis…"

"This is she." She put her hands on her hips. He was just what she needed. Some damned vendor trying to get business with fancy clothes and a laptop.

"Ma'am, my name is Ryan Peterson, and I represent the law firm of Hodges, Phillips, and Baker." Her eyes narrowed. "We represent Samantha Walking Tall, and I'm here on behalf of my employer, Christopher Southerland, partner with the firm." He put down his case and pulled out a stack of letters from his case and found hers.

"This is to inform you that you are due in court on the 18th of next month to answer these charges. If you fail to appear, a bench warrant will be issued for your arrest."

She stared at him open-mouthed. She took the envelope, her face turning red with anger as she read. The bitch was suing her for slander, libel, and what hell was "false light"?

"Excuse me?" Her voice was high-pitched when she spoke. "Slander? Libel? Just because I told about how terrible she is? And what the hell is "false light"? Is that even anything real?"

"False light is the definition of when a private person is thrown into the public eye through false allegations. It covers their emotional and mental distress, while slander and libel cover the reputation and business ramifications."

"That bitch! She's a lying whore!" Phyllis ranted, and Ryan raised his hand.

"If you keep going, I'll let my employer know that you have been hostile." His smile was dark. "I can be called as a witness if need be."

All day, he popped in and out of the diner, looking for people who hadn't been home. He called them outside or to the back of the restaurant and served notices all day. He had no idea who the judges would be, but they were going to be busy men and women.

It seemed to the young paralegal that the entire town was being sued with the exception of a scant handful of people. And he could still make up that handful if he was missing a couple of fingers. He talked a bit with Aaron and Sally, telling them of Sam's decision to sell. She'd already decided, and had communicated that to them, but she wished to make them an offer of sale before it went on the market. Aaron told Ryan they'd consider it, and thanked him for coming.

Across the country, television newscasters and newspaper reporters and editors who had participated in the debacle with Sam opened letters and legal notices presented to them. They received similar speeches from local attorneys and a few LEO's. Organizations scrambled to come up with settlements while individuals scurried to save their careers.

Those who thought they were safe from being called to task for their reckless and fraudulent reporting were suddenly reminded of laws and punishments they had hoped to avoid. The few who hadn't been suspended or outright released from employment found themselves on the unhappy end of conversations with their HR departments.

Within two weeks of the notices of intent to sue for slander, libel, and in which states allowed it, false light, offers to settle began to pour across Chris Southerland's desk. He countered most of them, demanding more money, and in several cases where retractions had been difficult to find, he demanded proper corrections.

###################################

Carol Jordan was properly medicated, and was giving the proper answers in her therapy sessions. Coleen was called to reevaluate her, and was cautiously optimistic. Carol was not defensive, she was not angry, but most importantly, she seemed to take responsibility for her own actions.

Coleen made sure she had someone to pick her up and a place to stay where they could be sure to have her medications administered properly and a person to guarantee that she would attend all of her therapy sessions. When the psychiatrist was satisfied, she agreed to release Carol.

Coleen called Director Gibbs, as she had agreed to do, and he swore. He wasn't interested in telling Sam this wonderful news. She was still afraid to open the curtains.

Carol stepped out of the hospital, thankful for her acquaintance that was willing to stick out her neck. The woman had only known her for a couple of months, and hadn't heard the entire scope of everything involving her "friend". And Carol would do her best to hide her activities from her new roommate. After all, the woman had promised to call the police if she noticed anything out of the ordinary, and Carol could only believe she would.

One thing that she had learned from her time in with therapists and others in need of therapy for other reasons, was that psychological terror was a powerful thing. She'd bide her time, knowing that Gibbs and Walking Tall would be vigilant for now. But a few months from now, they would relax.

And when they relaxed, she would be ready. Until then, she would go to therapy and take her drugs like a good girl. She'd toe the line, making every effort to seem changed.

################################################

Ducky had spoken with Sam on several occasions, and she finally agreed to go talk to a therapist. She'd had to work past the stigma that going to a therapist meant you were insane or incapable of rationality. She finally understood that people go to therapy for a multitude of reasons, some of which were as simple as having someone to talk about daily stressors.

She called and made an appointment with the man's help, explaining that she'd been through a recent trauma and wanted to talk about it. To her surprise, the people on the phone didn't ridicule her or make her feel uncomfortable for asking for help.

Her first appointment was two weeks out, and she was meeting with a young woman named Victoria. Sam was told Victoria wouldn't be her actual therapist, but would be the intake personnel who would see her and get her information and the reason for her visits. Her hands and voice were shaking by the time she was finished with her call.

"You're sure I'm not being, I don't know, silly or over-emotional? That I'm not over reacting?"

"No, my dear. I think you may surprise yourself once you begin talking about how you feel. I have a suspicion that you have more emotions bottled up than you are willing to share with any of us for fear of upsetting us or making our lives any harder."

Sam shrugged. He'd just summed her up in a couple of sentences. "Everyone has more to deal with than listening to me whine." She wiped a lone tear from her cheek.

"Which is exactly why we have therapists who are there to listen and help."

##############################################

Vernon stood outside of his old home, his face contorted with hate. He had expected Mary to come crawling to him, begging him to come home and take care of the girls again. Instead, she'd not even taken a week to sign the divorce papers and get them filed.

His son idolized Ellis and despised him. His wife depended on her father, not him. He began to wonder what the girls really thought of him. The more he thought about them, the more he found that he didn't care. They'd all find out how much they needed him.

Amy talked back and argued everything. She'd threatened to drop out of school, and Vernon hoped she would. It would prove that he was right. She was a waste. Acheflow was following after her brother. She was quiet, but where Joseph kept his trap shut, Acheflow spoke her mind. Little Allison was just a blob. She had no personality that he could see yet. She was still in diapers and couldn't talk.

He'd watched his family leave nearly an hour ago, and with losing himself in thought, he found himself rushing. He used his key and packed the rest of his clothes. He stopped in front of the refrigerator and began to tear pictures down.

With near precision, he emptied the house of everything that had made it a home. Pictures, colored pages, saved cards and letters all went into bags that he took with him. He'd been hired to tend a burn pile for the friend of a friend, and he started the fire with pleasure, using every letter he could find that Ellis had written to his children.

Joseph and Amy acted like they were treasures. It was time they learned to treasure their father and not a dead uncle. He watched the flames grow and fed the hungry blaze with pictures and birthday cards. He threw in all of their wedding photos and the hospital pictures from when the children were born. The last thing he threw in was their marriage certificate. It was useless now, anyway.

################################

Gibbs arrived home to find Ziva moving around carefully. She happily shared the news that the doctor had told her that another two weeks would see her back on desk duty if she could handle sitting in a desk chair for that long. Her best news was that she was returning to her own home.

"Excited?"

"Very." She smiled. "I have enjoyed staying here, and I appreciate everything you and Sam have done for me," she shrugged. "For all of us…"

"But there's no place like home." Her smile confirmed what he already knew.

Sam had him chuckling. She wanted to be sure Ziva would have meals in case she hurt too bad to cook, so she'd cooked meals for four days and had used every plastic container he had to make sure she had meals that could be warmed up quickly. With a quick order for everyone to wash up, she finished setting the table.

Tony came in, limping as he struggled with the cane that plagued him. He grumbled about hurting, and Sam handed him his pills. Gibbs bit back a smile as he watched the younger man swallow them.

"Good to see you finally following the doctor's orders." Ziva smirked.

Dinner was done, and Gibbs loaded Ziva's bags in the car. The trip to her apartment was short for him and unbelievably long for her. When she unlocked her door and stepped inside, she was thrilled. She'd never really had anywhere to call home before, and it was an odd feeling to be back in _her_ space.

"You got everything?"

"Yes, Gibbs, I am fine."

"You sure? Want to check cupboards or anything?"

"Not today." She smiled. "I am tired and just want to go to bed." He nodded and kissed her cheek.

"You need anything, you call, ok?"

"I will, Gibbs." She smiled. "I have already received the "talk" from Sam." Her brow furrowed. "She is a mother hen, yes?"

######################################

Mary came in followed by her daughters. The door was unlocked, but she didn't think about it until Acheflow asked where her pretty picture from school was. The tired mother looked around their small kitchen and living room.

Amy began to shout, angrily running to her bedroom. Her room was trashed. She got into her closet and looked frantically for her box of letters from Uncle Ellis. They were gone. She flew to her brother's room where she found the same to be true.

Mary heard a scream and came running.


	47. Chapter 47

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks, Headbanger! You're an awesome beta! Love you! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

##################################

By the time Mary called the police, Vernon had finished the burn pile. He collected his $50.00 and drove back to his friend's house.

"I'm going home." Vernon grinned at his friend. "Bitch wants me back."

"Oh, that's great!" Martin came out of the kitchen where he was making dinner. "I'll drive you over there." His smile matched Vernon's. "I'd let you take yourself, but I want my car." Vernon laughed.

"Don't worry about it. I'm just going to walk until Mary meets me. She's on her way."

"Tell her I said hi."

"Sure thing." He was long gone by the time the police came looking for him. Martin was stunned. He told them about Vernon saying he was going home.

Martin showed them to the room where Vernon had stayed, and an envelope sat on the bed, addressed to Mary. The officers opened it.

_To the courts: I, Vernon Yellow Hand, sign over all legal and financial claims to my children. I leave them with my soon to be ex-wife, and hope she can take care of them. I will not pay child support, I will not have visitation, and I will not do anything for them ever again. _

_I don't know what it takes, but I hope this letter is enough to make it happen. Mary Yellow Hand and I have filed divorce papers, and she is demanding full custody. So give it to her. Those idiot children have no respect, and she's why. So let them have one another._

_Not so respectfully, Vernon Yellow Hand_

"This guy is something else."

"Yeah. The question is _what_?" They turned to Martin. "How long did Mr. Yellow Hand stay with you?"

"Just the last month. He spent the first month over at another friend's house, and the second he bounced around between places."

"Why did he have to move so often?" Martin hedged, trying to not answer. "Why, Mr. Cashpaw?"

"Um, he was getting drunk and getting angry. He broke stuff."

"Did he break things here?"

"Only a window."

"Would you like to press charges for vandalism or destruction of property?"

"No." Martin shrugged. "It's a small one. Guy's got enough problems." The officers got the names and addresses of the other people Vernon had stayed with and left.

Meanwhile, Vernon was busy laughing. He'd gotten away. A small brown truck pulled over, far enough away that Vernon had to jog to get to him.

"Where ya headed?"

"Anywhere." Vernon smiled. "Got no place to be, or anybody waiting for me. I'm a free man."

"Good deal. Throw your bag in the bed."

"Woah. You huntin'?" Vernon smiled as he got in the truck.

"Thinking about it. You hunt?"

"Love to. You ever been?"

"Nope. Just practice shooting."

"You should try it sometime. That first kill is," he paused. "It's something that you'll never forget."

"So I've heard." The man's smile had shivers running down Vernon's neck.

####################################

"I can't believe I've been away from the farm for three months already." Sam sat at the table, her head in her hands. "At this rate, I'll need the extra year Rick and Vicki offered."

"Have you thought of where you'd like to move? Are you going to move closer to your family, or…" He let the question hang in the air. She thought for a moment.

"I'd like to stay closer to here, I think. It's so beautiful in this part of the country." She smiled. "It's green."

"Yeah, it is. I'll take you down in the Shenandoah Valley one of these days. You can look for places in there." He shrugged. "Shannon loved driving through there."

"I can't afford to buy something that nice, Gibbs. I've only a few thousand after emptying my bank account and selling or leasing the goats. My farm in the middle of nowhere isn't going to go for that much money, and I don't have a job yet."

"Sam, you've got a lawyer who has about 5 people helping him. You know that he's sending out letters of intent, and he's been talking to networks about settlements." She looked terrified as he spoke. "You'll have more than enough when this is all over."

"That thought scares me." She stood and walked over to the window. "I never realized there were so many people involved." They were quiet for a while. "Chris gave me the list of the people he was suing on my behalf, and it's frightening." She turned and looked at him. "Am I going to have to go to all of those court dates? I'm afraid to ask him. It's like he thinks I should know these things. And I don't have a clue."

"You should call him."

"He's busy." Gibbs nodded.

"Yeah, but he's working for you. If you have a question, ask."

"I hate it when you make sense." Gibbs laughed as she walked past to get her phone. A few minutes later, he heard her talking to her lawyer. He poured himself another cup of coffee and settled down in the recliner next to Tony.

"What movie we watching?"

"You're watching, Boss? That's great!" Tony stood and limped over to the small stash of movies Abby had brought from his apartment. "How about Independence Day? Aliens, big guns, crazy veterans, and explosions. It's amazing." Gibbs rolled his eyes as Tony waxed eloquent on the computer animation and breakthroughs in filmography that made the movie great.

Sam finished her call and came into the room, sitting on the other side of Tony. She handed over bowls of popcorn. Tony spoke his thanks before handing Gibbs bowl over. Gibbs just grunted. He'd not been a night-time snacker in years. Sam was a bad influence.

##########################################

Mary threw clothes into a bag for herself and Allison.

"Amy, Acheflow, pack a bag for a day or two, ok?"

"Where are we going, Mommy?" Acheflow sat by her little sister.

"Thunkashila and Unci's house." Amy wiped her eyes as she started packing her bag. Thunkashila would make everything better. That's what Grandpa's are for. Unci was for love, Thunkashila was for answers. The young girl wanted both.

It wasn't long before they were loaded in their station wagon and on the road to John Quincy and Doris' house. Mary was vacillating between anger, sorrow, and disbelief. Amy was silent, which told her mother how angry she was. The two little ones were just excited to be going to see their grandparents. They didn't really understand what was going on, and for that, Mary was grateful.

Doris wondered who was pulling into their drive. None of their friends went visiting this late. Her eyes grew large as she saw the outline of a station wagon. She called to her husband, and he flipped on the porch light.

They met their daughter and grandchildren at the door. John Quincy took their bags as Mary began to tell them of what had happened. Doris drew her close, letting Mary cry.

"What was that?" Doris backed up a bit. "I didn't understand you."

"He took everything important."

"Who? What do you mean?" Mary began to describe coming home to find that Vernon had taken their marriage certificate and the children's pictures from the fridge. Their pictures were gone, letters from the two oldest kids' schools stating their achievements on honor rolls, and recent report cards. When she told of his theft of Ellis' letters, the older woman gasped.

"Did the police find him? Can you get them back?"

"I don't know." Mary's voice shook. "They're looking for him. That's all I know."

"You'll stay here for a while, then?"

"I don't know." Mary allowed herself to be seated at the table. "I just don't want to be there tonight."

"And so you shouldn't." Doris went to the girls and hugged them.

English was forgotten, and the familiarity of words that flowed comforted the girls and their mother. All too often, they got caught up in the habit of speaking English after days spent in school and work where it was accepted as the language of their land. John Quincy returned from putting their bags into the spare rooms. Acheflow and Allie were immediately in his lap.

Amy sat chewing her nails. When her grandpa asked her a question, she simply shook her head, even though a much longer answer was needed to answer. When Mary started to correct her, he shook his head. She'd talk when she was ready, and pushing would do no good.

"Have you called Joseph yet?" Mary froze.

"No. I was focusing on talking to the police and getting the girls out of the house."

"Why don't you let your father and I get the girls ready for bed, and you can call him?"

#############################

Joseph was nearly asleep when his phone rang. He'd had a clinical that morning, and a test two hours after. Next he'd had lunch and a lecture. Two hours of study, an hour for dinner, time to fight his way into the closest bathroom and have a shower, and he was finally getting to bed. It was only 10, but he had raced past exhausted before dinner.

His face grew stern as he listened to his mother relay the latest offense of his father. She got to the part about Vernon taking their letters, and Joseph felt his heart shatter. He collapsed onto his bed, his breathing hitched. Mary kept talking, and he finally moved.

His knapsack was tugged from under his bed and several changes of clothes were throw into it. He turned on his computer and sent messages to all of his professors, letting them know that he had a family emergency and needed to leave for several days. He hoped they'd let him take his finals later.

"I need to get off the phone now, Mom."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm coming."

"You have tests all week! You can't."

"Yes, I can. I'll see you in the morning."

"Joseph, what are you going to do?"

"Find him and beat the shit out of him." Joseph's words were quick and angry. "He had no right to do this. Not to you, not to the girls, and not to me. If he wants to be angry, I'll give him something to be angry about."

"You think he isn't daring you to do something to him? Prove him right? Show people that he had a reason to do this? Don't be foolish, Joseph. You're better than he is."

"Just once, I'd like to forget that."

#############################################

Gibbs was sleeping when he heard a phone ring. He checked his. It wasn't him. A second ring, and he heard Sam answer quietly. A quiet curse had him heading down the hall.

When he heard her end her conversation, he knocked.

"You ok?"

"Not sure. Vernon's at it again." Gibbs rolled his eyes and asked what he'd done now.

"What are you going to do?" Sam sighed.

"I want to go." Gibbs nodded. "Tony's getting around well, he's sore, but he's doing better."

"But he's not ready to go home yet."

"No. He's not able to be on his feet long enough to cook, he can't lift, so he can't do a lot of things for himself." She shrugged. "Even the laundry soap bottle is heavier than he's allowed to heft."

"How are you going to get there?" She grimaced.

"The only way I can think of is renting a car or," she swallowed hard, "Flying."

"Do you think you can do that?"

"It's quicker than driving." She began to pace. "It would take 24 hours of driving, even if I didn't stop for gas, food, or rest."

"And that's not going to work."

"No." She sighed. "I need to get there."

"Do you want someone to go with you?"

"I think I'll be alright." Her smile was wobbly. "You guys fly all the time. I need to learn to do it." Gibbs kissed her forehead.

"You'll be fine. Want me to book your flight?"

"Could you? And, could you maybe take me to the airport?" She went from being the confident woman who was going to conquer a fear to being a frightened woman he felt the need to protect with that one single sentence.

"Yep, I'll get ya there." He was quiet a moment longer. "With all of this chaos, I'm not really comfortable with you going alone."

"You can't go, none of the team can, your dad hasn't been back with his store for long, and I've not made a lot of friends outside of you guys yet. I don't have anyone to go with me."

"If I get someone to go, would you agree to it?"

"As much as I want to stand on my own, I'm scared, too."

"I know." He waited.

"If you find someone willing to go, I'll agree."

"'K." Gibbs headed back down the hall.

Four hours later, Gibbs drove back from the airport. His detail would have a cow later when they realized he'd left without alerting them, but what they didn't find out wouldn't hurt his ears. Sam would be boarding her plane along with an agent named Lisa that she'd never met.

He pulled back into his drive and headed inside. He had time for a shower and coffee before his detail arrived. Tony was still sleeping, and Gibbs debated waking him up. Knowing the younger man may need help was the deciding factor.

Tony grumbled, but he wasn't needing help. He was upset with both Sam and Gibbs for not giving him the opportunity to go, even though he knew he wasn't really able to protect her if the need arose.

"You sure that agent is qualified? I've never heard of her."

"She's fine."

"But what if…"

"She's fine, DiNozzo." Gibbs smirked as he watched Tony roll over and go back to sleep.

########################################

Sam's flight landed, and she breathed a sigh of relief. This flight was in a much bigger plane, and there was no turbulence. Lisa was relieved, as she'd been warned by Gibbs that Sam didn't fly well. The woman was tense, but not terrified. Tense, she could handle.

Sam dialed Gibbs number, hoping to talk to him, but realizing she'd probably have to leave a message. When his voice mail came on, she stuttered through a message, rolling her eyes at her own verbal follies. Messages were worse than talking on the phone, and phones were odd enough.

"Hi, Gibbs. Um, we're here. Um, I guess just call me whenever you can." She was quiet for a moment. "I guess that's it. Bye."

Gibbs smiled hours later when he had the chance to listen to his messages. He'd been in and out of meetings all day. Cynthia had taken notes of his messages and gotten him notes of what they were, so he'd not worried, but to hear her unsure words, when she was usually certain in her speech was amusing. Of course, if he ever teased her, he knew there would be dire consequences.


	48. Chapter 48

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar, my awesome and amazing beta! Love you! Ptbbbbbbbb!

Note: Warnings for blood and a totally scary, mental stuff.

################################

Joseph had driven all night, and he was beyond tired. So it wasn't with the clearest mind that he walked into his home. He saw the bare walls and a hatred that had built slowly for years erupted from his heart. The only picture his father had left hanging was his own.

His feet moved quickly as he raced to rip it down. Glass shattered as he threw it to the ground. He picked up the broken frame and tore the picture from it. Tears ran down his face as he shouted at his father's image.

"You never loved us! You only loved that damned beer and anything else you could get. You're an asshole! I hate you! You blame us for everything! You never take responsibility for yourself!" He let loose with a primal scream.

"And now you hurt them more! You're lower than low! You never understood why we love Uncle Ellis so much! It wasn't the letters, you loser! It was the love he gave us! We tried to love you! And you shit on us every time! Every time! Well, I'm done with you! Even if you come back, I'm done with you!"

His chest heaved with emotion as he shredded the photo. "I ever see you again, I'll kill you." His voice was barely heard through his clenched teeth. "I swear to God I'll kill you." He climbed into his car, not realizing that he'd cut himself on the glass.

Hours away in a long-forgotten canyon, Vernon hid beneath a heavy brush. His shoes were gone, he was thirsty, and the sound of trickling water tormented him. He was less than five feet from the edge of the small stream, but he was afraid to move.

The night before, he had been "released" into the wild without his shoes. He'd managed to evade his insane captor so far, but his luck had run out moments before. Thirst had won out, and he'd come to the stream, hoping to get a swallow or two before having to run again.

The man's shadow high in the rock gave him away, and Vernon dove for cover. He watched as Howard looked down on the valley, and Vernon was thankful that he was hidden. He hoped the man would move. To his disappointment, the man sat, just waiting. His quarry would get thirsty eventually. And this was the only water to be had for nearly 80 miles. He could be patient.

The hunted man sneezed, and a bullet hit the rock next to his head, glancing down and hitting his shoulder. Vernon gasped in pain before trying to run to a safer spot. His regret of telling Howard how awesome making his first kill would be died seconds later.

Howard stood over his prize, satisfaction on his face. He'd made his first kill, and the man had been right. It was a feeling he'd never forget. With a smile, he knew exactly what his keepsake would be. All of Vernon's things were buried with him in that lone canyon with the exception of his driver's license.

The man gloated as he finished filling in the grave. It was only four feet deep, but it would be enough to keep the man hidden for years. By that time, he'd be only bones, and without his identification, no one would be able to tell who he was. Howard smiled, pure malice in his eyes. He knew how to rid the world of worthless, homeless vermin. And no one would miss any of them.

##################################

Sam insisted on driving, and Lisa clung to her seatbelt. The younger woman had always assumed the plains were flat and the roads were straight. While that was true for the most part, she was surprised by the curves and swells of the land.

Sam's worry was evident as she pushed the 75 MPH limit. The miles were eaten by the tires as they whirled around. Finally she slowed, and Lisa breathed a sigh of relief. The town was tiny, and to Lisa's amusement, there were no stop signs. Sam simply slowed and looked both ways before driving through. Four roads down, and one left turn.

Sam parked on the street. With the two cars that belonged there already, a truck that her father-in-law refused to part with, Mary's wagon and Joseph's truck, the usually roomy drive was packed. Lisa followed the fast moving woman, surprised at the speed with which she jogged.

She stopped at the door and knocked loudly. The light curtain was pushed aside, and the door flung wide open with shouts of "An' Sam!" ringing across the lawn. Lisa watched as two little girls practically crawled up her companion. Mary greeted her next, thanking her over and over for coming, her thanks mixed with apologies for her husband.

"He's hurt you, Mary." Sam spoke quietly. "You didn't have anything to do with his cruelty, and it's not your fault. Don't apologize." Mary began to weep. "Are you alright?"

"I think so." She drew in a shaky breath. "Can you talk to Joseph? He's so angry."

"Where is he?"

"In the bathroom. He's locked himself in. He's bleeding, Sam. There was blood all over his shirt, and it was dripping from his arm. I don't know what he did. He won't talk to any of us, not even Dad."

"I'll be right back. Mary, this is Lisa. She's a friend." With that, Sam was headed up the stairs.

Mary looked the new woman up and down. It wasn't like Sam to bring a stranger to family problems. She wondered if she had something to do with all of the craziness surrounding that mess.

"Would you like something to drink? My mom, Doris, has lunch almost ready."

"Water would be great. Thanks."

############################################

Sam knocked softly on the bathroom door. She could hear her nephew moving about, but he refused to answer. She knocked again. An angry shout to leave him alone rang out.

"I didn't come all this way to get attitude from you, young man." The door flew open to Joseph standing bare-chested with a towel wrapped around his hand. "What did you do?"

"I cut myself." His face darkened. "If you came up here just to gripe, you can go back downstairs. I'm not in the mood." He started to shut the door, but Sam stuck her foot in the opening, blocking his move.

"I'm not here to yell at you. You have every right to be mad, and I'm worried about that hand. Your mother and grandmother are almost frantic." Joseph sighed. He pulled the towel away.

"I didn't feel it until I was down the road."

"Did you feel it, or see the blood?"

"My hand slipped, and I looked down, saw the blood, and then the pain hit."

"It's deep, Joseph. This needs stitched." She dabbed at it. "Honey, I can see your bones. Do you know what could have cut you?"

"Yeah. The bastard got me back by cutting me when I destroyed his picture."

"Well, I guess you're even, huh?"

"Not funny." She pressed and he gasped.

"We're going to the hospital."

"No, we're not."

"Yes, we are." Her voice was firm. "You cut yourself down to the bone, and who knows if you've damaged nerves or anything else."

"I can feel my fingers, An' Sam."

"Yeah? But I see they're not moving." He sighed and nodded.

"Fine." He pushed passed her and stalked out to his truck.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"It's already bloody." Sam rolled her eyes.

"Get into my car. Just keep that towel wrapped."

############################################

Mary went along, thrilled that someone had finally gotten through to her son. Her mind began to race, and she nearly cried. Of course Sam got through to him. They shared a bond she'd never have with him. And it was her fault. He'd tried to get close to her, but she'd pushed him away to help Vernon.

The sisters-in-law listened to the doctor as he explained the damaged tendons and ligaments. Joseph would need surgery to correct the mess he'd made of his hand. He growled in frustration, but signed the papers.

"Did I just cost myself my career as a vet?"

"Nope. You've got feeling, and that's a good sign. It looks like the cuts are clean enough that we can get everything patched back up. You'll need some physical therapy, but I think you'll heal fine."

###################################

Gibbs rolled his eyes as he listened to Abby rant at him. "…Know she could be in danger right now, and you just let her go! How could you do that? Tony called me, and she's not answering her phone! He's frantic! Now she's out there, all alone, and what can we do? Nothing!"

"Are you done?"

"No!" She glowered at him. "But I guess I need to be."

"Yeah." He waited a second. "She's not alone, I sent someone with her. She's only going to be gone two days, and if you'd seen her face this morning, you'd have known that either I found someone to go with her, or I put her in lockdown to keep her from taking off."

"But, Gibbs…"

"Her family is all she has left, Abby." He sighed. "She needed to go. She can't do anything, but she can be there."

"I didn't think about it that way."

"I know." He handed her a slip of paper. "That's Lisa's number. Call her. Sam may be busy." She gave him a weak smile. "Now get out of my office."

"Yes, Sir."

"Don't call me Sir."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Abigail." She was already gone.

#################################

Sam and Mary settled into the waiting room. Joseph would reportedly be in surgery for only a couple of hours, so the sisters would have time to catch up. Neither woman wanted to be the first to talk about their troubles. Lisa had settled in a couple of seats away, keeping an eye on everyone who walked past.

"Well, one of us needs to start talking, or this time for catching up will be totally wasted."

"Oh, I know. You've just had so much trouble of your own."

"And you're having more. I lost a farm. You're fighting to keep your family." Mary sighed and laid her head on Sam's shoulder.

She began to open up to her sister-in-law about the divorce, and how Vernon had left the letter saying he didn't want the children. Mary admitted to being glad that he was gone. The girls were more relaxed, even with the changes of not having their father in the house.

"I've made so many mistakes, Sam."

"We all have, Mary. What do you think is your worst mistake?"

"I think my worst mistake has been Joseph."

"What do you mean? He's a great kid."

"He is." Mary sighed. "He tried so often to get close to me when he was little. He wanted so badly to be close to Vernon and I. I wanted to be close to him, too, but I had to choose between Vernon and him." She wiped at a tear. "I thought that I could get Vernon to change. To become the man he was. But he just kept getting worse. And then Amy came along, and he was third down the list."

"You're being too hard on yourself. He's turned out great."

"He's great only because of you and Ellis. The two of you swept in every time I needed help. You were there for bills to pay, for groceries, and those letters." She shook her head. "Those letters were his _reason_, you know what I mean? It didn't matter what was going on, everything was fine so long as he got a letter from Ellis. And your letters meant just as much."

"We were glad to do it, and I still want to help when I can."

"It's just that sometimes, I feel jealous that you have a closer relationship with him than I could ever have. You have it because you took the time to make it. I never did. And I didn't even realize it until now. I didn't see just how much I'd relied on him to help me, and hadn't let him just be my son."

"You see it now, and that will let you fix it."

"What if he won't let me? What if I pushed him too far away?" Sam smiled.

"You're his mom. He loves you." Mary nodded. "Just talk to him. That's a great place to start."


	49. Chapter 49

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar for being my amazing beta. Love you! Ptbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: Still OOC and AU. Lol Just thought I'd say that once again. Heeheehee I miss leaving multiple, nonsensical notes.

#######################################

McGee headed up the stairs to the Directors office. He was enjoying these daily meetings all week, but he had to admit that he wanted his team back in the field. Cybercrimes was getting boring.

"Good morning, Boss."

"Morning, McGee." Jethro sat on the couch, spreading files out before him. "Got coffee?"

"Of course." He sat, opening his own file folder.

"So, what did you find?"

"Well, I found places where the manual isn't clear on protocol. I'd thought it was when we went through it at FLETC, but reading it now, I find that it's unclear, perhaps even incomplete." Tim pointed to a section in the Operations Manual opened before them. Gibbs grunted.

"And this is how I'd reword it. It's more descriptive," Gibbs interrupted.

"But it's clearer and erases the confusion the other causes."

"Exactly. I'm not sure if people are untrained, or if they are just studying the manual."

"I went through the files, and everyone signed off on completed hours of field training." Gibbs tossed a paper aside. "Could they have done field training and been trained incompletely, or do you think they were trained from the book?"

"I'm going to guess from the book, Boss." McGee sat back. "When I went through FLETC, we did only two hours actually training, the rest was books, and the time we spent at our desks with the earwigs learning to use them and to be unobtrusive with them counted as field time."

"Well, that's going to change." He handed Tim another file. "Tony wrote this up on his own. It's a list of errors the team on protection duty made, and corrections that need to be taught. Go through the manual and see if these things are in the manual correctly. If so, I want the instructors they had in here by tomorrow night."

"Yes, Boss."

"Oh, and McGee?"

"Yes?"

"You're with Ziva on this."

"I'm out of cybercrimes?" Gibbs nodded without looking up from Tim's file.

"Effective immediately."

Gibbs smile lit up when the door closed. He'd seen Tim's smile through the corner of his eye, and he wondered what the others reactions would be when he took his seat at his old desk. Curiosity overcame him, and he walked to the end of the hall where he could observe unseen.

Tim was still walking slowly, a cane providing support when his leg became wobbly towards the end of his stride. He greeted Pete with a nod, and Ziva was on her feet by the time he was to his desk. Gibbs could see her speaking, and wished for a moment that he could hear her. Her eyes widened and she stepped to her friend, giving and receiving a slight pat on the back. Gibbs was sure that if she was able to hug, McGee would have been crushed.

###########################################

"How is he?" Mary and Sam were on their feet as soon as they saw the doctor.

"He's fine. His hand will be in a drainable cast for six weeks." Doctor Jamison smiled slightly. "His nerves were damaged slightly, but in time, I expect a full recovery. The nerves weren't severed completely, and the cast will provide the stability and immobility for the nerves and tendons to heal."

"How long will he be one handed?" Sam was ready to kill her nephew. "He's got clinicals coming up in a few days."

"I'm sorry, but he's going to be one handed. There's no way around it." He waited for a moment. "He needs to have his hand immobile for several weeks, after which we'll move him to a brace that he can remove and start him on therapy."

Mary groaned and rolled her head back on her shoulders.

"I can't believe he was that foolish."

"Not foolish, angry." Sam sighed. "Do you think he should call his professors, or do you want to do that? You can tell them that he's just out of surgery." Mary thought for a moment.

"No. He made this mess, he can clean it up."

"Mary, what would you be doing if it was Vernon before all of this?"

"Me enabling him to be an immature idiot is what lead to this. Joseph needs to stand up and be a man."

"You're pushing him aside again." Sam was getting angry.

"You want to call, you call. But when he starts making this a habit, don't blame me." Mary stalked out of the waiting room. "I'll be outside. I need air."

"Way to ditch the wrong man, Mary." Sam seethed as she went to sit by her nephew. He was coming up from the anesthesia, and she began to speak to him.

"Hey, Joseph. You did a number on yourself." His eyelids flickered. "I know you can hear me. Come on, wake up." Her voice had grown soft, cajoling him to wakefulness.

"There you go." His eyes opened slightly, and he looked at her. His eyes were dull with a drugged overcast. "Nice to see you." She smiled, and he tried to smile back, only to fall back to sleep.

"No, no, no, young man. We need you to wake up a bit." His eyes cracked open again, and he scowled. "There's my unhappy guy." The nurse who had come in to check on him smirked at them.

"He's waking up, huh?" She stood on Joseph's other side. "Good afternoon, Handsome." He looked over at her and smiled.

"Oh, I see how you are. Smile at a me and frown at your mom?"

"I'm his aunt, actually."

"Oh, well, that's worse." The nurse teased, and Joseph tried to speak.

"Pain in ass."

"Is she a pain in your ass?" His eyes closed, but he nodded.

"Talks too much." Both women chuckled. Mary stood out in the hall listening. She knew she should go in, but she felt like an outsider. Joseph spoke again, mixing languages.

"She's on her way. She needed to step outside."

"Smoking again?"

"Maybe. I don't know. But she's coming."

"K." Mary entered just as he gave a gentle snore.

###########################################

Phyllis sat with Vincent Pryor, the town's single lawyer. His predecessor had retired only months before, and this semi-citified youngster wasn't from any of the local families, and she was finding that to be a problem. Steve would have had this whole mess dealt with already, and Sam would be the one in trouble. He knew the truth. This kid was buying the outsiders story.

"What do you mean she has the right to sue me? I just told the truth!"

"No," he patiently explained again, all the while fighting the urge to shout at her. "You told what you thought was the truth, added in several ideas of your own, and told the nation that it was the truth."

"Well, it is." Phyllis stood. "That woman is the cause of all of the problems in this town."

"Phyllis, she's not." Vincent pinched his nose. "I have here a list of papers and tabloids that you gave interviews with, and in every one, you tell something different. Here is an affidavit from Director Gibbs regarding your "conversation" with him when you realized he was going to visit her."

"And that says everything right there." Her eyes narrowed. "He was going out there. A man, from out of town. After she had those men out there in that storm." Vincent had heard enough.

"Because you continue to refuse to acknowledge any wrong doing, I cannot represent you. You have asked me to help you form a settlement, but your actions and attitude make that impossible. There are many other individuals here in town who have already retained my services, and I need to speak with them. I wish you luck in finding other legal representation."

He stood and held out his hand. Phyllis glared at him, refusing to shake his hand as she stormed from his office. Out in the lobby, she made a face at the receptionist.

"Don't bother seeing him." She made sure to speak loud enough for him to hear. "He's not interested in helping _us_." Vincent rolled his eyes, hoping his next client would be less argumentative.

##################################

Sam sank into bed, wondering what to do next. Mary was still furious with Joseph, and he was shutting his mom out. She wondered if she could get them to speak without fighting.

Mary was so angry with Vernon, and with him leaving as he did, the man wasn't around to take her anger. John Quincy had tried talking to her, but she'd let it go in one ear and out the other. When Doris had tried, Mary had yelled at her.

"_I let Vernon get away with this for years! I'll not stand by and let my son do the same things!"_

"_So talk to him, Mary. But this anger is not his to carry. This anger is for his father, and you are wrong in giving it to him."_

"_Oh, so now I'm wrong? For years, you all wanted me to get rid of Vernon, and now that he's gone, it's my fault?"_

"_That is not what I said."_

"_Whatever, Mother." Mary had stormed outside, leaving Sam to wonder what to do. _

Everything was so messed up. She'd talked to Joseph before leaving for the night, and he'd told her to go get rest.

"_Do you want me or your mom to stay?" He'd thought for a moment._

"_No. If she stays, she'll yell all night. If you stay, she'll be mad. Why is she so angry with you? I mean, I think I know why she's so mad at me, but why is she so mad at you?"_

"_Your mom is hurting, Hon, and she's not thinking straight." He scoffed._

"_She said that about him for years. If she's gonna be like this from now on, I don't want to be around."_

"_She won't be like this forever, Joseph. She's just…"  
><em> 

"_Overwhelmed. I know. Same song and dance as she said for Dad. Them and their excuses." Sam patted his cheek._

"_Both of them are wrong, Joseph, but don't let it make you change. See their mistakes and learn how to not make them."_

"_Like admitting that destroying his picture felt good, but was one huge mistake?"_

"_Exactly." Aunt and nephew shared a smile. "Next time, take it out of the glass before you try to shred it."_

"_Smart ass." He yawned. "You think Mom will forgive me?"_

"_She will. She just has to stop being mad first."_

"_Until she's ready to not be a bitch, I don't want to talk to her."_

"_Joseph," he interrupted._

"_No, I'm serious. I'm so sick of this. He yells, I clean up a mess between them, she calls him on his crap, he threatens to leave, and I get stuck telling him how much she needs him. Now he leaves, and it's like she blames me. I'm not going to deal with it."_ His eyes had closed, and he wished her a good night.

#########################################

Gibbs was surprised when his phone rang. He put down the report he was reading and answered.

"Gibbs." He smiled at the sound of her voice.


	50. Chapter 50

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to my fabulous, horrifically overworked beta, Headbanger Rockstar! Love you! Ptbbbbbb!

###################################

Sam arrived near dawn to find Joseph still sleeping. He was peaceful, and she decided she'd get another cup of coffee before he woke. Mary and Doris were behind her by a few minutes.

"_I'll go when I've finished giving the girls breakfast."_

"_I can do that, Mary." _

"_Oh, so you can take over my daughters like you took over my son?"_

"_I didn't take him over, Mary." Sam sounded as frustrated as she felt. "You should be there when he wakes up."_

"_Don't tell me what to do." Amy rolled her eyes. Her mom got like this from time to time with their dad, and it drove her nuts. It was as if she had some gauge inside that opened a floodgate of anger when her internal limit was breeched. _

Sam adjusted her nephew's blanket and smoothed down his hair. He never moved or even changed breathing patterns. She waited a moment before nodding to Lisa. The women stepped into the elevator seconds before Mary and Doris exited its neighbor.

Doris entered her grandson's room with care. She quietly set her purse in the corner and hung a necklace made of leather and buffalo horn for healing near his head. Mary had gone down the hall to the restroom first, so the older woman settled in to wait for her grandson to wake.

Mary entered the room shortly after she sat. Doris watched her daughter with wide eyes as she moved chairs, not even trying to be quiet. She spoke loudly, asking if Sam was here, or if she'd stopped off somewhere.

"Her purse is here." Mary snorted.

"Her purse. She never carried one when she was married to Ellis. Now she's got all of these great and grand social graces."

"Why you mad a' An' Sam?" Joseph's eyes didn't open, but his voice was as clear as the drugs would allow him to speak.

Mary glared at him. Doris drew in a deep breath. Her daughter was completely overwhelmed, and she hoped to stave off the coming rant. She was already too late.

"You can't even talk right! What are you on?"

"Dunno." He tried to open his eyes.

"You're such an idiot. You don't even know what you're on. You should know."

"Na' idiot." He swallowed hard, running his tongue over his dry lips. "Drugs."

"Oh, so you admit to being a drug addict just like him? Is this what you're becoming? Is this what you're going to school for? To learn to screw up your life just like your father? You're doing a good job of it, Joseph." Her voice had risen the entire time she spoke.

Doris stood, not realizing Sam was standing in the hall, her eyes wide.

"Sit down, Mary." Doris' voice was icy. "How dare you talk to your son like that. He is not his father." Lisa didn't understand what was said, but she understood the anger rolling from the older woman. "He is hurt. And he does not need more hurt from you."

Mary looked stricken for a moment. However, her regret was quickly replaced by anger when she saw Sam. Her face distorted.

"You are such a great woman." Mary growled at Sam. "You always have to play the hero. You and Ellis. Always have to come to the rescue. And now you're here." Doris reached out and struck her daughters cheek. Mary whirled around.

"Enough. You need to go out and take a walk."

"I'm not leaving my son."

"Go." Joseph's voice was quiet, but the intensity of his demand carried. "Get away from me."

"Fine." She stormed from the room, Doris following slowly.

"I'll take her home and let her calm down."

"She's got to get the anger out, Mom, just not at him." Doris nodded.

"I'll have John Quincy talk to her." Sam nodded as she moved to Joseph's side.

Without a word, she brushed a tear from his cheek. He met her eyes, sadness clouding his beautiful chocolate eyes. She picked up the talisman left by his grandmother.

"Here, lift your head." He moved slightly, and she slipped the necklace about him. "Unci and Thunkashila sent this to help you heal." She sat by him in silence, waiting for him to be ready to speak.

####################################

Ziva and Tim sat at a table in Conference Room C. Before them lay two copies of the FLETC training manual and Tony's notes. They poured over everything, making notes in Tim's laptop regarding changes, notes Tony had made that were clearer than the manual, and Ziva found several security errors that were currently being taught.

SecNav was both impressed and angry that one of his best teams was doing deskwork. He was impressed that the MCRT was rewriting the training materials for the federal training program while still mostly on sick leave. Even though Ziva and Tim were back, they were still on desk duty.

Pete listened and learned, asking questions as he reread the manual, pointing out differences he'd noticed between his team and the team he'd been loaned to. By the end of their eight hour day, they had made notes to write nearly twenty pages of the manual with corrections or complete rewriting.

"I'm so glad to have the team pulling back together." Pete grinned as he came in with another round of coffee. "I'm learning more today than I have since I entered FLETC."

"What about crime scenes and investigations with Barry's team?"

"I saw them do some stuff, but I don't think they do everything by the book. I kept notes of what they did differently from our team." Ziva and McGee exchanged glances. "Just so I could ask questions. Was that wrong?"

"I think I like him." Ziva smirked.

"Me too, Ziva, he just made our jobs easier. If one team is doing them wrong…"

"It stands to reason more are." Tim nodded.

"Do you guys always finish one another's sentences? I don't remember that from before." The two older agents smiled. They could have more fun than they expected.

########################################

"Mary, he is not his father." John Quincy sat with his daughter on his porch swing. "You know he is not a drug user."

"I know." She sighed. "He is just acting so much like his father. Being stupid, making all of these terrible choices, and…"

"And you accusing him of things he has not done is wise?"

"I don't need this, Father." She shot a glare at him. "Why is everyone so angry with me? Can't I correct my own son? Make him see he's acting just like his father?"

"If he was, then you could speak to him. However, the only one I see acting as Vernon is sitting beside me."

"I can't believe you just said that! That's not true! He's…"

"A young man who has had his world turned upside down, and he is trying to do his best to be the man his mother needs him to be."

"By getting hurt and causing more stress?"

"It was not his intent to be hurt." She started to interrupt, and he held up his hand. "You, however, intended to hurt with your words. Do not speak, think on it." He left her sitting on the swing.

################################

"Don't worry about it, An' Sam." Joseph sighed. "I can look it up later."

"You need to call, Joseph. You've worked too hard to miss all of your tests."

"They may not let me take them if I'm not there."

"And you never know until you ask." He smiled.

"I know, I know. When you ask, you have a 50/50 shot." With a roll of her eyes, she handed him his ringing phone. A garbled voice came over the line, and he asked for the first of his professors.

An hour later, he'd spoken with or left messages for all of his teachers. One of them demanded that he be back for his written test in two days, and Joseph prepared himself for failing that class. Two of his teachers had been in class, and he left them detailed messages, asking them to call him back.

"See? That wasn't so hard."

"No, just embarrassing."

"Yes, and a little humiliation can be good for the soul. It's a great teacher." Joseph scoffed.

"If you call this a learning experience, then yes. It's a great teacher."

"Well, you're learning to not lose your temper." Sam grinned.

"Shush." Despite his harsh word, he couldn't hide his smile.

###############################

Tony and Abby sat on the couch watching a movie. He'd grown bored, and she had come to the rescue with pizza, soda, and a few selections from the Red Box down the road.

They ate slice after slice, laughing at the antics of Pauly Shore in Bio Dome.

"He is so stupid!" Abby nearly choked as the two heroes of the story raided the food stores for the entire year.

"I know, he's brilliant!" Tony laughed as Squirrel reveled in the cheese puffs, and they began a lively debate of which they would prefer to have with them on a prank-binge.

###################################

Gibbs looked at his watch. It was six his time, so it was only four out west. He dialed, hoping she'd be able to answer. He grimaced as he realized he needed his "Sam Fix" as his dad had already dubbed it. He never should have introduced those two.

Her phone rang several times, and he nearly hung up when she answered.

"Hi, this is Sam."

"Hi, this is Gibbs."

"Oh, hey! I wanted to call earlier, but we were busy."

"What's going on?"

"Whole bunch of stuff. I'm sitting with Joseph right now."

"That doesn't sound good." He waited while Sam filled him in on what had happened in the last 24 hours. "Is he ok?"

"He's hurting, and he messed his hand up good, but he'll survive."

"Is he awake? Can I talk to him?"

"Yes." Sam walked into the hall. "You can talk to him, but don't yell at him, ok? He's had enough of that from his mother."

"She got mad, huh?"

"I'll tell you about it later."

"Ok, I'll watch it. Now let me talk to him." Sam walked back into the room and handed Joseph her phone.

"It's Gibbs." Joseph groaned, not wanting to take the phone.

"He's just going to yell at me."

"No, he's not." Gibbs heard the tone of resignation in the young man's voice, and his heart ached. Life was hard enough for him right now without being afraid to talk to people. "He just wants to talk to you. Make sure you're ok."

"If he starts, I'm hanging up."

"That's fine, but give him a chance." Joseph sighed and held the phone to his ear.

"Hi."

"Hey, kid." Gibbs made sure to keep his voice quiet. "How are you?"

"I'm alright."

"You sure? I heard you had a problem with your hand." Joseph sighed. "What happened?"

"I lost my temper, ok? Broke a picture, cut my hand, and now I'm sitting here in the hospital instead of being at school taking tests." His voice sounded so hurt, Gibbs couldn't bring himself to gripe at him about leaving and missing his finals.

"It's ok, Joseph. Sam said you called your professors. Are they going to let you take your tests later?"

"Yeah, all but one." Another sigh. "He's insisting I take it on time, no make up allowed."

"When is it?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. If I get out of here tonight and get on the road early enough, I can make it."

"Can you drive?"

"Don't know."

"Well, you and your aunt will figure it out, right? Is John Quincy able to help you get back if need be?" Joseph felt tears well behind his eyes.

"I don't know."

"Well, when you figure it out, just be careful, ok?"

"Ok." He handed the phone back to his aunt.

"I'm back."

"He's like a beaten pup."

"Oh, yeah."

"Can't talk about it?"

"You got it."

"Alright. Call when you can."

"Same to you." They were quiet for a moment before both hung up, leaving things unsaid.


	51. Chapter 51

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: My amazing beta, Headbanger, is SO overworked, but I'm so glad! Lol

######################################

Mary was furious. Joseph was being completely coddled, and it was at the hands of her sister-in-law and father. Her mom wasn't siding with her, but at least she wasn't saying anything more than she'd said in the hospital. That little speech had been more than enough. Why could people not see? If they didn't make Joseph pay the piper now, he'd start thinking he was _allowed_ to do this sort of thing.

However, no one was listening to her. She'd been down this road with Vernon already. One mistake lead to another. This was his first "mistake", and she could see him using it as a spring board for future "mistakes". In her fury, she failed to see the differences between Vernon and Joseph.

Joseph reacted after years of pain, and he regretted his choices, and didn't plan on hiding behind them. Where his father would have waited until he was completely healed to take his medical records to his professors and tried to guilt them into letting him take his exams, Joseph called and accepted the harsh reply that he may not be able to take his exams.

He wasn't making excuses for his behavior, and admitted that he had been wrong. He wasn't asking for special treatment from anyone; not from his teachers, his mother, or friends. If anything, he was pushing them away.

He didn't ask for his aunt to drive him back to his school, or for her to stay and make sure he had meals and was driven to the barn for his clinical. He didn't ask for his grandfather to stand up to Mary on his behalf. He was willing to hear her out, knowing her multiple rants would burn into his mind and be a reminder in the future to never do anything so dumb again.

Joseph was glad that he was able to take all but one test, and in the end, the professor relented at the request of another instructor.

"_He knew the value of being in class on that day."_

"_Yes, but his family was, and still is, in crisis."  
>"How do you even know that I refused to give him a substitute date?"<em>

"_Thomas heard you talking to Geraldine, and he came to me, to ask if the young man would fail this semester, or if he would be allowed some of his tests."_

"_Joseph didn't talk you into this?"_

"_Absolutely not! If that were the case, he would have been denied."_

"_I suppose I could allow him to test. However, I will give him an alternative test that he can't get the answers to beforehand."_

"_If you believe he would cheat, then you do not know your students."_

As he sat down to take the unexpected exam, he looked up at his professor.

"Thank you, sir."

"Why thank me?" Dr. Fredrickson wanted to know how he'd respond. "It's my job as a professor to give you tests."

"True, but you had said no. I'm not sure why you changed your mind, but I'm glad you did."

Dr. Fredrickson watched as Joseph wrote answer after answer. He was on the lookout for any hint of cheating or notes tucked anywhere. To his surprise, the young man was rapidly nearing the end of his exam, and had never even let his eyes wander away from the test and booklet. Joseph finished and handed his professor the exam.

"Thank you again."

"You're welcome. What do you intend to do with your break?"

"I'm gonna go stay with my aunt in DC for a couple of weeks." He shrugged. "Mom's blaming me for Dad leaving, so Grandpa thinks it'll be best if I'm not around to take her anger."

"Is that what happened to your hand?"

"No." Joseph blushed. He'd been through this story so many times that he was determined to never do anything like this again. He told his story quickly and with red cheeks, looking down as he talked about destroying his father's picture.

"Sounds like you had a hard week."

"Could have been worse."

"Think so?"

"Yeah." Joseph squared his shoulders. "I could have been refused all of my tests and wasted the entire semester."

"And that would have been our faults?"

"No, it would have been mine." He met his professors eyes. "I chose to leave, I chose to break the picture, I chose. That's why I didn't argue when you said no to my request to take the test later. You had your own choices to make."

##############################################

Joseph sucked air in between his teeth as he came through his dormitory door. He'd accidently hit his hand on the knob, and pain shot up his arm. His aunt had his backpack out of his other hand within seconds.

"When's the last time you took your pain meds?"

"I had to have a clear head for my tests."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I didn't take any this morning."

"Clear headed from pills but not from pain?"

"I can think through pain."

"Whatever. Have a pill." Sam handed him an oxycodone and a coke. He raised an eyebrow.

"Shouldn't I have it with water?"

"The caffeine will get it to you faster."

"You're smart." He grinned and sucked down half of the soda.

"You think your uncle or I never got hurt?"

"No, just didn't think you knew what this fizzy stuff was."

"I'm a goat farmer, kiddo. Not a Neanderthal." Lisa bit back a laugh. They seemed serious.

#####################################

Christopher Southerland read through another settlement offer, and felt anger course through him. Most had offered settlements that were far below an acceptable amount, and two were sending their intent to sue Sam for "violating their right and responsibility to provide quality news reporting as protected by the first amendment of the Constitution."

He noted their addresses, and realized they were the two "reporting" agencies near her hometown. First was the television station only 200 miles away, which was one of the three channels that the town received, and the other was the town's laughable "newspaper", which was little more than a weekly newsletter full of gossip and police reports.

He fired up his computer and began to type up replies to various offers. He wrote fairly pleasant yet firm letters to some, keeping it completely legal and yet not scathing with those who had come close to proper sums for their offers. Others, slightly better than the two "we're gonna sue you" entities, his letters were far more harsh, with case laws, evidence he had to support their claims in court, and amounts he felt were fair settlements.

Two the two local stations that had filed their own lawsuits, he responded with his own filing of claims. He determined within himself that news did indeed need to be spread, and the first amendment was necessary. However, there were laws protecting the innocent from harassment, slander, libel, injury, and emotional distress. Mrs. Walking Tall had suffered all of those and more at the hands of her neighbors and the "news". He had the intention of forcing the current owners to sell and get honest, trustworthy owners, managers, and reporters in place.

He called Samantha, discussing his plans with her briefly and smiled at some of her questions. He realized how little she actually knew of the law, and decided to send one of his junior partners to discuss the ins and outs of what would happen with her, so she wasn't caught by surprise, or worried about things she'd never have to deal with.

In the background, he could hear a deep voice singing some strange song, broken up by giggling and loud belches.

"Mrs. Walking Tall, I'm not trying to be harsh, but please tell me you're not at a bar. If someone takes your picture, it could be damaging." Sam chuckled.

"I'm not, I'm sorry. My nephew hurt his hand. He had surgery and is recently from the hospital. I gave him a pain pill, and when it didn't kick in soon enough, he took a second, as the doctor said he could. I guess two in two hours is too much."

"Is he alright?"

"Just his hand, and it will heal. Thanks for asking." A loud belch sounded. "He got ahold of the rest of the two liter of soda, sorry." Christopher was laughing as they ended their call.

##################################################

Lisa had stepped out to make a call, making sure that their tickets were secure, and keeping out of Sam's legal business. She'd thought of taking Joseph out with her, but he seemed to be unwilling to leave his aunt, and she wasn't bothered by his noisy playfulness.

Sam began another call, so Lisa stayed just outside the door, letting her have at least the semblance of privacy. Lisa chuckled as Joseph asked who she was calling. His arms were draped over the older woman's shoulders, and he wobbled comically on his feet. His voice slurred, and had she not been with them from the time of his first pain pill almost three hours ago, she would have assumed he'd had far more than the two doses he'd taken.

Sam had already called his doctor, and the man reassured her that the effect would wear off in time, and that he was in no danger of the overdose Sam feared. It seemed that one pill and then an over the counter pain reliever would be his limit.

"Hi, Mary." Sam started to speak, and Joseph slurred a greeting to his mother.

"Is he drunk?" Lisa could hear the angry shriek from her spot in the doorway.

"No, he's having a reaction to a pain pill."

"Oh, wonderful! You're letting him get high!"

"No, I'm not." Sam sighed. "We're going to DC. I'm having him come with me."

"Oh, so you can continue to enable him?" Joseph had enough. He took the phone from his aunt. Lisa had no clue of what he started off with, but the "bitch" was perfectly clear, even with his slurred speech.

Sam rolled her eyes and let the two yell at one another for a moment. Lisa's eyes widened as she saw tears rolling down the young man's face. She caught some words she'd heard several times, and she'd come to understand the meanings of.

"…family…son…" and some were in perfect, "drunken" English. "…bitch…bastard…bite me…" and his final shot after she shouted her own insults, the big "f-bomb". Sam took her phone back and hung it up.

"Joseph, you know better than to do that." Lisa watched as he deflated and wrapped his long arms around her, curling into her, sobbing. He was lost in his sorrow, his speech so slurred Lisa couldn't have understood him even if she'd tried.

"It doesn't matter, honey." Lisa was sure Sam was speaking English for her benefit. "I know you're nothing like him, and so does everyone else. She's so hurt right now that all she can see is him." He responded.

"I know, baby, I know." She soothed him as if he was a small boy. "She's doing the same things he was doing, but she doesn't see it right now." He nodded. "So come to DC, and we'll give her time to calm down, ok?"

"'k." He lifted his head, and Lisa watched as he became the goofy kid he was a short time ago. "Can we stay with Uncle Gibbs?"

"Yep. And when I go down to Stillwater, you'll go with me."

"Uncle Gibbs' dad?" Sam grinned and nodded. "Yeah!" Joseph pulled away and started to pack a bag. Sam looked to Lisa and shook her head.

"Shades of childhood?" Lisa quirked an eyebrow.

"You have no idea." Sam chuckled. "Joseph, what are you packing?"

"It's my favorite rug!"

"Put it back on the floor." He pouted but did as she asked.

"I'm ready!"

"Do you have your toothbrush? Hairbrush? What about getting shoes on?" He paused.

"Oh, yeah!" Lisa stepped outside so she could laugh without making him feel self-conscious.

The airport was an interesting experience. Lisa discovered that not only was Sam worried about the flight, but that Joseph had never flown. He was fascinated by the "moving sidewalks" and nearly squealed at the escalator.

Once their flight was called, Sam and Lisa practically herded the excited young man onto the plane. His second pain pill hadn't worn off yet, and he was still goofy, adorable, and causing a stir among children. He was big and playful, and a favorite of the little ones who were bored as they waited for their flight.

Joseph told stories and played cars and duck-duck-goose. Once the flight was called, parents were glad to have exhausted children who would sleep. However, they felt a little bad for the women who had to contain the irrepressible gentle giant with the enormous smile and giggle.

"We're going on the plane?" He left English in the dust as he yammered excitedly at his aunt. "Really?"

"Yes, we're going now."

"Can I get wings?"

"Wings?"

"Yeah, like Alude got when he went to Florida with his parents."

"Ask, Joseph. I don't know if they have them anymore."

"I hope they do. They're cool." As soon as he saw the first stewardess, he enveloped her in a huge hug, his eyes taking on the perfect begging magic of a puppy.

She gently separated herself from his embrace, smiling and nodding as Sam explained his surgery and reaction to the pain medication. Her attention returned to the young man who was finishing his tale of show-and-tell and the amazing silver wings his friend had shown off.

"If you get in your seat, I'll bring you wings as soon as everyone else is on board."

Joseph's face split into an even larger smile, and he let Sam lead him to his seat. He sat, chattering excitedly about being excited to fly. By the time his belt was fastened and the others were boarded, he was sound asleep, snoring softly. Sam breathed a sigh of relief and accepted the wings Holly handed to her.


	52. Chapter 52

Disclaimer: Don't own it!

Note: Thanks, Headbanger for betaing so quickly! Love you! (/) (|) (\) .o/ \o/ \o. (giggles)

#####################################################

Tony was having what he would consider a good day. His pain level was low, his pulse and blood pressure were normal, and he felt flat out good. He walked to the basement door, grinning as he watched his boss sand quietly.

"You coming down?"

"Yes." Tony's eyes lit up. "I think I can today."

"If you…"

"Get light-headed stop and wait for you. I know."

Tony reddened slightly as he thought of three nights ago when he'd tried to prove he could climb the stairs all on his own. He'd ended up losing his footing and tumbling down them. Thankfully, they were the nicely carpeted ones heading upstairs, but it still hadn't saved him a trip to the Emergency Room with a nearly frantic Gibbs.

Gibbs put down his sanding block and watched as his friend as he slowly came down one step at a time. He paused on the landing, and Gibbs considered going to his aid when Tony started walking again.

"And to think I used to think these stairs were easy."

"They will be again." Gibbs smirked. "You just gotta remember that you kinda had your body messed with a bit."

"No kidding." Tony sat heavily on a stool. He yawned. "I can't wait until my circulation is right again."

Gibbs began to sand again, letting Tony chat aimlessly about cold cases he was reviewing and the FLETC manual he and his team were creating.

"I'm sorry, Boss." Gibbs looked up. "It's Saturday night, and you're finally home from work. I shouldn't talk about all of this."

"Of course you should. It's what makes you the best." After a pause, Tony went back to describing the changes his team wanted to make in the manual, some for clarity, and some for safety.

The topic eventually became far less serious. Tony started to sand, following Gibbs' directions from previous times. He moved slowly, yet he huffed with heavy breath when he sat back down.

"You know, Tony, I'm thinking of nicknaming you Timex."

"Timex?"

"Yeah. You take a licking and keep on ticking." Tony chuckled.

"If I wasn't so tired, I'd toss something at you." Gibbs smirked.

"You want to go back upstairs?"

"Yeah, I think I need to."

"Want some help?" Tony nodded.

"Don't think I can do one set of stairs, let alone two." Gibbs set down his block and moved to help.

Tony stood and let Gibbs put an arm around his waist as he settled his arm over Gibbs' shoulders. They climbed the stairs slowly, making sure to stop when Gibbs could feel Tony becoming unsteady.

He helped Tony settle into bed and handed him his nighttime meds. Tony swallowed them, glad to see an over the counter pain pill in the mix. Gibbs pulled the covers over him, and he settled down onto his pillow. He missed Gibbs stopping at the door and looking back at the young man.

"Glad you're doing so good, DiNozzo." A soft snore was Tony's reply.

######################################

Mary took a day off from work, and was spending it sitting with a friend. They shared a small table at a coffee shop, and Mary was getting worked up again.

Tammy had come running when Mary called, understanding her friends' need to talk. But Mary was angry with all of the wrong people. She was mad at Sam for being there for Joseph. She was mad at Joseph for getting hurt and adding to "her" stress. She was mad at Amy for having an attitude, she was mad at the two little ones because they wanted their daddy to come home, she was mad at… the world, it seemed.

"Mary, do you hear yourself?"

"Excuse me?"

"Do you really hear yourself? You sound ridiculous."

"Ridiculous? I sound ridiculous that I'm upset that my family is blowing apart?"

"Yes!" Tammy held up her hand to stop Mary from interrupting. "You're so angry with everyone but Vernon! You're going on and on about how everyone else is screwing up, or wants the wrong things, but _never once_ have you talked about how everyone is helping you!"

"Helping me?"

"Yes! Sam has Joseph, and is taking care of him! Your parents…"

"Sam has my son, when I should." Mary's eyes narrowed. "She's got no business…"

"Oh, just like she and Ellis had no business paying your bills for years while Vernon messed around? Like she had no business paying his way through school? Like she had no business…"

"Fine, I get it!" Mary stood to leave, and Tammy blocked her path.

"No, you don't. _SIT DOWN_!" Stunned, Mary fell back into her chair. Tammy continued glaring at her. "You seem to forget that Vernon wanted to sign your son over to Sam and Ellis, and if memory serves me right, so did you for a bit. However, they determined you would be the best choice for raising him." Her eyes narrowed.

"Have you forgotten all of the times when they paid your rent because Vernon blew everything you had on drugs? Or how upset you both were when you found out you were pregnant again? Three more kids, and Sam and Ellis _never once_ cut you off or told you to stand on your own. _Never once_ did they tell _your _children that they bankrolled your life.

"_You_ seem to have forgotten it, however." Mary was silent, all of her arguments ripped from her. "You seem to forget that your parents have welcomed you and your children into their home _once again_. And you're sitting here belittling them. What is your problem?" Mary started to speak.

"I'm not done yet." Tammy was still on a roll, and her voice held quiet venom. "All of his life, Joseph has tried and tried to get your attention, your love, and your respect. He has _never_ been good enough for you.

"You know that year when you sent him to live with Sam and Ellis? I _prayed_ you would never bring him home. I _prayed_ you and Vernon would sign him over to them." Mary's eyes widened. "But no! Vernon came home from rehab, you got yourself pregnant again, and Joey came home. Don't you think he knew he was there just to be a little man?

"_My_ son was worried that if I ever had another baby that he'd have to hurry home from school to change diapers and do laundry! Do you know what a gift you have wasted? Do you know how amazing that young man is?

"Yes, he came and hurt himself. But dammit, Mary, it's about time he acted on his feelings instead of stuffing them down so _you_ won't be upset.

"If you're looking for pity, I'm not the woman. You want someone to tell you to knock off your shit and grow the hell up? I'm here. But don't you _dare_ take any more of your anger out on that young man. He has been a buffer between you and Vernon for years, he's picked up everything his father dropped, and he shouldn't have to bear the weight of that asshole leaving." She sat back, her eyes black with fury.

"You need to let him be for a while, and get your own head on straight." Mary opened her mouth, but Tammy stopped her again. "You want to show him you care? Let him have time with the woman who has been more of a mom to him than you _ever_ were. You may have given birth to him, but you're only his mother. _She _is his mom.

"She never expected him to keep up the house or do farm chores, or keep _her_ life in order. You don't want to have a son, you wanted him to be a," she raised her hands in air quotes, "little husband because the man you married failed at every turn. He deserves better than you, better than all of that shit, and he deserves a few days to heal without dealing with your shit."

She stood and left her friend sitting at the table. Tammy knew that if she didn't, she'd keep going, and Mary had just heard enough. The rest could come later if she needed another kick in the teeth.

###################################

Christopher Southerland sat in the law offices of ZNN, waiting for his meeting with their chief legal officer. He checked his watch again, wondering if they were trying to make a point by delaying the meeting. Finally, nearly twenty minutes after his meeting was to begin, he was shown back to the man's office.

"I am so sorry to keep you waiting." Charles Archembeau stood and offered his hand to Christopher. "I realized the information I had was incomplete."

"What information was that?" Charles went on to explain their search into how much Sam had truly lost in the forced evacuation of her farm. ZNN had made use of all public resources for her finances, and he had come to a far different conclusion than the "bean counters" as he called them, had.

The men sparred verbally, offering and countering until both were satisfied. The settlement would be kept quiet until the trials of the others were over, so juries or judges weren't swayed to let others get away with their crimes.

They shook hands and Christopher left, all of the papers signed and just requiring Mrs. Walking Tall's final approval and signature. His next meeting was scheduled for the dinner hour in a hotel suite where one of the heads of a mid-western station was waiting to pound out a settlement.

He stopped at his office and secured the papers, making sure the details of the settlement with ZNN would remain confidential. He smiled with satisfaction as he glanced at the final total once again. He was certain his client would be amazed, and he had the fleeting thought that she could buy her old farm many times over with just this one settlement.

To his mind, she deserved it. The terror she had lived under, the difficulties she had faced, and the mess she had been forced into with the press, was something she deserved to be compensated for. And it was his honor to do it.


	53. Chapter 53

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger for being my beta!

Note: the charity mentioned at the end of this chapter, K.I.D.S. is a real charity. They do indeed act as a middle-man between businesses and children and needy families. They manage their annual budget with only about 0.3% used for administrative costs. They are on the list of "America's Best Charities" which is where I found them. I don't own them, am not affiliated with them, and hope they don't mind the extra shout out to say "THEY'RE A GREAT CHARITY".

####################################

Sam finally relaxed when the seatbelt light came back on. Joseph was still fastened in his, so she didn't wake him. She smiled over to Lisa who was packing up her small bag and preparing for their landing. The plane thumped as they landed, and Joseph woke up, a groggy smile on his face.

"We get to the airport yet?" Sam smirked.

"We're landing. Where did you think we were?"

"Um, the bus station?" Lisa laughed from across the aisle.

"Oh, my little Joseph. Do you remember begging for wings?" His mouth dropped open.

"I did that? I thought I was having a really fun dream."

"Oh, no." Sam smiled, watching him blush. "You did that. All of it."

"Did I get my wings?" His voice was hushed.

"Yes." Sam handed them over, laughing as he pinned them to his shirt.

"Don't laugh. I had to make a fool out of myself to get these."

#######################################

Mary had left the coffee shop hours before and had simply driven. She ended up at her house, sitting staring at her darkened rooms from her car. When she began to feel cold, she went inside.

She walked through her rooms, talking to herself. She went over the conversation with Tammy once again. Shame came over her as she realized her friend was right. As were her parents and Sam.

_Damn you, Vernon. Years I gave to you, years you wasted, refusing to change. Oh, you'd change a bit, just long enough for me to believe you. Over and over and _over_ we went through this, and I bought it every single time._

_I fought for you with my father, with my brother, and you just let me do it. You just let me make a fool out of myself for years. Asshole._

Her thoughts rambled from one event to another, every time seeing for the first time where she should have chosen to give him the choice of get out or straighten up. She saw how she'd come to depend on her son, and it angered her that he never stood up to her.

_Why would you never talk to me? Why did you let this go on? _She saw where she was wrong, but habits die hard, and just as she'd depended on him to fix all of her woes for years, she thought herself in circles, coming to a point where it made sense that with an apology, he would make all of the effort to fix this, just like he'd fixed everything else.

With a sense of peace, she walked out of her house and returned to her parent's home. Mary called everyone into the living room and asked them to sit. When silence reigned, she began to speak of her conversation with Tammy and how her friend had helped her to see the light.

She admitted to lashing out at all of them out of hurt and selfishness. When she finished speaking, her family accepted her apologies one by one. Peace settled over them, and it wasn't long until the two youngest girls were sleeping, finally relaxed.

###########################

Lisa pulled their sedan into Gibbs' drive, and Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

"Woah, he's got a big place."

"He bought this house years ago, when he was married." Joseph grew quiet. He understood a bit about the man now. How he always seemed to know the right thing to write or say.

"How old are his kids? Is it ok that I came?" Sam sighed.

"He had one daughter, and she died in the accident with his wife. Don't ask about them unless he talks about them first."

"Ok, but you're sure he's not going to be upset that I'm here?"

"No, I'm sure. I already asked, and if he was going to mind, he would have already said something."

To her relief, Gibbs was waiting for them in the kitchen. He'd ordered pizza and had coffee on. He'd already been up to check on Tony, but he had slept through the doorbell, and even the smell of his favorite pizza hadn't been enough to rouse him.

"Welcome back." Gibbs offered a half-hug to Sam. "Missed you around here. I had to cook."

"Oh, like you cooked tonight?" He nodded.

"Yep, it's hell on the wallet." Gibbs turned his attention to Joseph. He looked the younger man up and down, shaking his head slightly at the heavily casted lower arm and hand.

"I know, I've heard it all." Joseph didn't sound angry, simply discouraged. Lisa stepped forward.

"Since you're all safe and home, I'm going to bow out."

"Thanks, Lisa." Sam gave her a warm hug. "You were great." Gibbs simply nodded as she left.

"I wasn't going to say anything, Kiddo." Gibbs chuckled. "May ask you to fold laundry or do the dishes." He shrugged as Sam rolled her eyes.

"I'll just have to tell you no."

"Then we'll have to find some way to make you useful. You're certainly not decorative."

"That's not nice."

"Sure it was. Better than coming straight out and telling you that you put the "u" in ugly."

"Ouch. You sure you didn't look in the mirror?" Both guys were smirking as they continued to banter back and forth.

"Alright! Alright! Cease fire!" Sam finally intervened. She handed Joseph a stack of three plates. "Get those on the table."

"Yes, Ma'am." As soon as he was in the other room, Gibbs turned to Sam.

"How is he, really?"

"He's hiding." She sighed. "He and DiNozzo are so similar about so many things that the thought of having them under the same roof for a week is terrifying."

"We're training a lot this week, so DiNozzo will be busy for at least two of the days."

"That's good." Sam smiled. "It's great that he's getting back to work."

"Yeah. How long will he be out?"

"Only for his break. He left the hospital early, finished his exams, and I brought him here instead of having him go get yelled at by his mom."

"Glad you brought him."

"You need to tell him."

"Nervous, huh?"

"Just short of terrified."

"You two coming?"

"You know, for a guest, you sure are loud."

"I'm sorry." Joseph froze.

"Glad you're here. Just giving you a hard time." Joseph's eyes were still wide. "Relax. I'm really glad you're here." He motioned to the table, and Sam sat first.

Dinner passed with Joseph getting more comfortable with each moment. He admitted to being worried that Gibbs was going to be angry with him, and Gibbs reassured him once more that he was welcome. By the end of dinner, Sam had an update on the team, Gibbs had an update of Joseph's classes and how he thought he did on exams, and Joseph felt like he belonged.

Sam stifled a yawn, determined she'd stay awake long enough to call Tim and Ziva to check on them before bed. Next on her list was Jack, but she wanted to get ahold of the other two tonight. She'd talked with Abby earlier, and knew that the bubbly Goth would be by for breakfast, so she wasn't on the priority list.

"You been working Tim and Ziva?"  
>"They've been busy, yes, getting ready to retrain."<p>

"Ok, I was getting concerned that they weren't answering." She shrugged. "Just hoping they'd been working, and not sick at their houses."

"Oh, no, they're fine." Gibbs smirked. "And today they both mourned the last of your frozen dinners."

"Just don't let them do too much."

"They know their limits." He smirked. "Tony's intending to go back to work Monday. He'll be retraining agents and doing desk work."

"Good for him." She yawned again. "I need to get a bed ready for Joseph, and then get to bed myself." Gibbs shook his head.

"Don't do that. I want to show him something downstairs, and Tony's in the guest room. My sheets are clean, so just go to bed, and I'll get him blankets for down here."

"The basement?" Joseph broke in. "The one with the boat?"

"Only basement I got."

##############################

Sam showered and crawled into bed, her calls finished and her mind at ease. Tim was doing well, and wanted to learn how to make it easier for agents to do an AFIS search. Ziva was frustrated with herself, but she was physically healing. Her biggest worry was on training the rest of the agency the proper techniques of shooting.

After finding so many errors and issues with the current training at FLETC, Gibbs had cleared it with SecNav to retrain every agent at NCIS. Since he was certain of Tony's team, they would be doing the retraining. Notices had gone out that it was not due to failures of the individuals.

Even Pete was being retrained, and that fact alone had stopped a near riot when other team leaders realized the newbie on the MCRT wasn't immune. Ziva went on to tell about small confrontations with some of the leaders before they realized Pete was in the class with them.

############################

"Woah, An' Sam wasn't kidding when she said you had a boat down here."

"Nope, this is where I come to ease my mind."

"A white man's sweat lodge, huh?" Gibbs smirked.

"You want to sand? Clears the mind." Joseph accepted the block Gibbs handed to him, and for the first hour, they were silent save for the gentle swoosh of the paper over the wood.

"How'd you hurt your hand?" Joseph sighed.

"I'm sure An' Sam already told you."

"Maybe." Gibbs shrugged. "I'm asking you." Joseph was quiet for a few minutes before he started to tell his thoughts, emotions, and reactions to his father leaving. Gibbs simply listened and sanded.

"…stupid, selfish, drunken fool. Why would he leave now? She's kicked him out before. She's not even the one that filed for divorce." Joseph slammed down his block. Gibbs set his down and leaned against his workbench. "Why the hell would he give up all right to the girls? She wouldn't have gone after him for child support. She knows that if he ain't got a job by now, he ain't gonna get one just to pay support. That was just a lame-ass excuse." He began to pace as he spoke, venting more anger until he broke through to his hurt.

"What's wrong with me, Uncle Gibbs?" He stopped his pacing and was now picking aimlessly at one of the unsmoothed ribs. "He never said anything to me directly, but I'd hear him talking to his friends." He stopped, shooting a glance to his friend.

"What did he say?"

"That he was happier before I was born." Joseph's voice became almost a whisper. "That I made him stay, and he wondered what his life would be like without me, and then my sisters." He paused for a moment. "He always told his friends that he'd get a job if he didn't have to be at home taking care of us. That he'd go back to school if we could be quiet enough for him to study."

"Did he ever try?" Gibbs broke into his memories.

"No." Joseph looked up, his eyes tortured. "Did Mom and I ruin his life? Would he have been better if we'd left?" Gibbs was quiet for a moment.

"Joseph, sometimes people make stupid mistakes, and sometimes, people are willingly stupid. Vernon is one of those people." He held up his hand to stop Joseph's reply. "He could have made different choices." Gibbs moved to stand before Joseph. "He failed to make those choices. He failed to make changes, to get jobs, to do anything that would have been good for you or your mom, and finally for your sisters." Joseph had begun to cry, refusing to meet Jethro's eyes.

"The fault is his, Joseph. The failure is his." He cupped Joseph's face in his hands, making the young man look him in the eye. "You are a pretty great kid. That he hasn't admitted it or even seen it isn't your fault." He drew Joseph into a hug. He wasn't sure at first if it was the right thing to do, but when Joseph's arms tightened around him and clung like the hurt little boy he was, he sighed.

"Thanks, Uncle Gibbs."

"You're welcome." He chuckled. "Just like DiNozzo, you're mine now." Joseph smiled into his "uncle's" shoulder. They stayed quiet for a moment before Joseph drew away. The men went back to sanding.

"So, now that I owe you a ticker-tape parade for explaining my father to me." Gibbs smirked. "Which I have to admit that it's going to take some time for me to really understand everything, and that's ok, I guess."

"Yeah."

"Well, um, do you have any idea of what to do about my mom?" Gibbs laughed.

"Nope. I'd suggest hanging out with your aunt, and just sort of let her sit for now." Joseph rolled his eyes.

"Is that sort of like Uncle Ellis' saying that the best way to fight a woman is with your hat?"

"Yep. Grab it an run."

"Gee, you're a lot of help."

"Divorced three times, Kiddo." Gibbs smiled. "I obviously don't understand women." Joseph leaned against the rib he was sanding and looked at the man.

"You must know something. They at least go out with you."

"Girl troubles?"

"Yeah." He smirked and went back to sanding. "I choke on the "hi, my name is" part."

################################

Christopher Southerland walked out of his meeting satisfied. He had a second settlement, and while it wasn't as large, the network wasn't as large as ZNN. The new settlement papers joined the first in his office safe, and he drove home where his wife waited dinner for him.

"How was your day?" She put a small roast on their table as he washed his hands.

"Good." He kissed her before sitting. "I can't talk about it, but it was good." She poured him a glass of wine.

"I'm proud of you, you know that?" He smiled back at her.

"Thanks." He shrugged. "I spoke with Mrs. Walking Tall, and she insists on paying for my services."

"What did you say?"

"I told her that ten percent was a great number."

"Ok." She sounded confused. "I thought you weren't going to take money from her case, and you've already said that the publicity is bringing business to your firm."

"It is." He held up a hand for her to let him finish. "We could use it, but I already said that I'd be doing this pro bono, and I don't want to change that. What I'd like for you to do is to find a charity that you feel is deserving so the money can be donated. I'll have to clear it with her, of course, but I'd like to do that."

"I know exactly what I'd like to fund."

"Already?"

"Yes." She went on to describe a charity she had heard of called K.I.D.S. The organization acted as a middleman between businesses and children or families in need. They manage to operate with little overhead, which allows the majority of their funding to be used for helping people.

"Sounds great." And with that, their meal began.


	54. Chapter 54

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger for being my fabulous beta! Love you!

Note: Tissue warning. Shock warning. Left punch from nowhere… don't kill me.

###################################

Gibbs and Joseph sanded until Joseph was nearly asleep. They went upstairs where Jethro got him a pillow and blanket. He talked the young man into one of the recliners rather than the couch. Joseph kicked it back and was asleep before Gibbs had the blanket spread over him.

Jethro sat back and watched the younger man for a moment as he slept. It was hard to believe he'd only known him for just over three months. It seemed as if he'd known the kid for years. Then again, it had been like that with Tony, too. He smirked to himself. Some men collected trophies. He collected sons. With a shake of his head and sip of his coffee, he headed upstairs.

Tony was asleep again, but he'd woken long enough to eat some of the pizza and empty his glass. Gibbs picked up both and took them downstairs. He carried up a fresh glass of water and adjusted the covers so Tony was completely covered once again.

Twice in the last three days of sleeping completely horizontal, he had woken chilled and achy. Gibbs was sure it was because he was moving and uncovering himself. At least he hoped he was right. Tony didn't need any infections on top of everything else. Perhaps he'd call Ducky and have him over to check and make sure.

That done, he went to his room next, intent on getting clothes for a shower before he headed down to the basement to sleep. He could sleep in one of the recliners that had still not found their way out of his living room, but he'd slept on the boat for so many years, that it was just more comfortable.

Sam lay on her side, curled tightly. He glanced at her briefly, and saw that her face was relaxed, even if her body told another tale. He picked boxers, jeans and a t-shirt out of his drawers. Socks came next, and he headed for his shower.

He stood under the spray, letting the heat relax his tense muscles. It was good to have Joseph here. The young man reminded him so much of Tony that he seemed to be an unwitting emotional doppelganger. Gibbs wondered briefly if Vernon would prove to have some small germ of goodness, like Sr. had been found to contain. He doubted it.

His shower finished, Gibbs dressed and headed to his bed to snatch his pillow. He'd still not decided on where to sleep, but wherever it was, he was having one of those nights when a pillow was just a necessary luxury. He'd even risk the sawdust for it.

Sam was no longer relaxed. Her shoulders were drawn up nearly to her ears, her face was scrunched with either fear or anger. When she began speaking in a low mumble, he lay down on the blankets next to her, smoothing her hair back and calming her dream.

Her words became clearer. To his surprise, she was speaking more English than usual in her sleep. He was able to piece together the "conversation" from her words, enough to know she was dreaming of Ellis. For some reason, he found it upsetting, and as he continued to comfort her, he understood his response. He was jealous. Jealous of a man who had passed away four years ago.

He waited until she was resting peacefully once again before heading to his basement. He needed his basement and his bourbon. Gibbs fairly stomped downstairs, his mind whirling with confusion.

He felt an overwhelming need to protect Sam, even from himself. He enjoyed her company, and hoped she felt the same comfort around him. He wasn't physically attracted to her, though. She was not his type at all. He liked tall, thin, redheaded women. Sam was short, chunky, clunky, and her hair was almost ugly with its strange color of not auburn, not brown, not black mix.

Her hands were rougher than his, yet he'd never met anyone with a softer or gentler touch. She was focused on getting another farm started, but was overwhelmed with where to start. He was furious with himself for not being able to help, yet he was furious with her for making him feel like he had to help. However, on further thought, she'd never asked him for any of the things he was doing.

She never asked him to help Joseph. She never asked him to build the lodge she used so often in the back yard. He did all of those things for her out of a driving desire to show her he cared. But how did he care? That was the question that plagued his mind.

He felt friendship, that was certain. But he'd never been jealous for a friend before. He wasn't attracted to her physically, yet he longed to be near her. Was it just because she reminded him of Shannon? Was that why he had these desires to protect and please?

He poured himself another shot of bourbon. He'd been "in love" enough to know what love felt like. This wasn't love that he felt for Sam. It was something he couldn't define. He'd married time and again in an effort to ease the ache in his chest. Was that what was happening now? He was easing his pain? What would happen to her when he chose to walk away as he always did?

With a growl, he went back to sanding, letting his mind take over as his hands performed the same actions over and over. His ex-wives had been nothing but distractions. And he'd hurt every last one of them. Sam was picking up so many pieces of her life, and he was there trying to be some hero. Of course she'd fall for him. Or she would if she was looking for someone. However, the words aimed at her late husband weren't the words of a woman who was ready to move on, or was even thinking about it.

He nodded as his thoughts turned toward her farm, and how she'd find one to move to when this was all over. She wasn't his, and never would be. She'd want someone who was attracted to her, someone who was capable of loving her, and he wasn't it.

To his surprise, he started ranting at Shannon. His mind screamed as he sanded, blaming her for dying. Blaming her for being gone. When had he become angry with her? It wasn't her fault she was murdered. He continued to rant, getting angrier and angrier instead of achieving his goal of calming down. He didn't realize he'd been speaking almost the entire time. His voice had carried through the quiet house with sickening stealth.

The basement door creaked open, and he looked up for a moment before focusing on his sanding once again. He'd not realized he'd been so loud.

"Gibbs? What's wrong?" He didn't answer. She tried twice before shutting the door and turning to Tony. "I don't know what's wrong."

"He gets like this." Tony shrugged. "He's working something out in his head. We've all heard him shouting at Shannon, which means he'll get uglier before he gets better."

"He was shouting at me, too, Tony." Sam's voice was quiet. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No." Tony ran his hands through his hair. "I was hoping you didn't hear all of that."

"It was kind of hard not to." Joseph wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "I guess we'll head for a hotel. Give him some time…"

"No, you can't go without protection. Let me get something in order for you."

"I'm not staying." Joseph's face was hard. "I'm not going to be yelled at when I don't know why. He's pissed, and I don't think I want to deal with him. I vote for the hotel. And we don't need protection. Nothing happened while we were out west, and nothing is going to happen now."

"Hotel it is, then."

"No, go to Jack's. He'll be glad to have you, and there's no need to waste the money."

"If Gibbs is mad at me for some reason, his father will never…"

"Jack's his own man, trust me. Go to Jack's. Here's my keys." Tony fished them out of his pocket. "I had Abby and Pete bring it over so I could clean it out." He shrugged. "I tend to eat in it."

"We can't take your car." Sam threw up her hands. "How will you get to work?"

"Gibbs. He wants to be a bastard, he can give me a ride. Go. Before he gets up here."

"You sure about this?" Tony nodded.

"I'm sure. Call when you get there." Joseph had his bag in hand and waited for Sam by the door. When she came back down the stairs, her eyes were puffy, and Tony hugged her quickly, telling her that everything would work out.

"I don't know what I did." Her voice broke. "He's been so wonderful to both of us, and I upset him. I'm so sorry."

"It's not you, trust me." Tony walked them to the door. "Straight down the highway. You remember how to get there?" Sam nodded.

"My phone has GPS on it." Joseph held it up. "We'll be fine." Tony drew him into a hug, which Joseph leaned into.

"It's not your fault, either."

"Funny thing? That's what my mom always said about my dad."

Downstairs, Gibbs felt angry at Sam for interrupting him, and then he became angry with himself for being angry with her. She was his friend, and he needed to act like it. God knows she has few enough left. He heard two doors slam and a car start. He looked up at the dingy window before jogging up the stairs. He wondered where who was going this early in the morning.

He wasn't expecting Tony to be on the phone, pacing in his kitchen. Gibbs stayed out of sight, just listening. He leaned against the wall and sighed. He'd screwed the pooch, so badly that even if there were puppies, he doubted he'd get to do anything but pay puppy support.

"No, Jack." He paused. Gibbs could of course only hear his end of the conversation, but the anger in Tony's voice spoke volumes. "No! They should have waited, and they didn't. Jack, he was downstairs sanding, and I don't know if he thought he was talking in his head, or what, but he was yelling!"

Gibbs rubbed his forehead. No wonder they'd left. He'd said some pretty rotten things. He cringed as Tony continued.

"Yeah, they've got GPS on his phone." "No, they'll probably stop for something to eat and some gas." "I don't even know what to say to him, Jack. He was out of line, and wasn't even talking to them!" "What?" "He was shouting at Shannon! He was totally out of control!" Tony paused, listening to Jack for a moment, and Gibbs nearly showed himself, but stopped when Tony began speaking again.

"Joseph is hurt, Jack. Gibbs has been like some sort of freaking super hero, answering questions, being supportive, and really making the kid feel not so shitty." He was quiet for a moment. "Sam's in a panic. She can't figure out what she did, and I tried to tell her it wasn't her fault, but with his shouts still echoing, well, I got really far with that one." Sarcasm dripped from his words. "She was shaking, Jack." His voice dropped, and he sounded defeated.

"Joseph is driving, but that may not be the best, either." "He trusted Gibbs, Jack! And the bastard did just the same shit as his father always did!" "Yeah! When they were headed out the door, I told him it wasn't his fault. His response? Funny thing, my mom always said that about my dad."

Gibbs felt ill.

##################################

"You ok, An' Sam?" She nodded, and he barely caught it in the predawn light.

"You?"

"I'll be fine." Silence reigned. An hour down the road, Joseph pulled into a truck stop.

"Need gas?"

"And food." He looked over to her. "Come on. Let's go get some real food and lots of coffee." She sat for a minute before nodding.

"Breakfast sounds good."

"Yeah, but coffee sounds better." Joseph shot her a grin. "Not to mention being out of that smelly car." Sam finally smirked.

"We should probably find whatever died in there and throw it away before we leave here."

########################################

Tony took a pain pill and headed up to his room. He knew Gibbs probably heard him yelling on the phone, but right now, he didn't care. He didn't want to talk to the bastard, either.

Gibbs was back downstairs, trying to decide what to do. He was angry, but she didn't deserve to be chased away because of his bad attitude. He growled in frustration and threw his sanding block. He'd done it again.

_This_ is why he didn't let people get close to him. _This _is why he kept his heart closed off. _This _is the shit he avoided. He wasn't good at it. Never had been. Not even with Shannon. But they'd grown together and learned to deal with things together.

He ran his hand across his face, wondering where the tears had come from. Wondering why they had come. He wasn't invested in this relationship beyond friendship. He was sure she wasn't, either. So what the hell was he doing? What the hell was the problem? What was _his_ problem? For the first time since Shannon died, he found he wanted the answer.


	55. Chapter 55

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar, my amazing beta!

#################################

Gibbs jogged up the stairs, hoping he could fix the mess he'd created with Tony at least. He didn't have any clue about how to solve the Sam and Joseph issue yet, but Tony was always good with an apology and an explanation.

He entered Tony's room and sat on the side of his bed, just like always. Gibbs smoothed the hair off of Tony's forehead just as he'd done a hundred times before. The change came with his recoil when Tony's eyes opened, their green orbs full of contained rage.

It was obvious he had taken some of his meds, and Gibbs worried that he'd hurt himself getting back up to his room on his own. The stairs were still hard for him. He thought to ask, only Tony cut him off.

"You sit here all nice now." Tony's voice was gravely with the drugs. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"Tony, I…"

"Get out of my room." Tony seethed. Neither of them heard the door close downstairs, or the platform boots that were coming quietly up the stairs.

"I'm sorry."

"Oh? You can say you're sorry now? Is that some sort of soul-searched thing? Or is it an attempt to get back on my good side?" Tony's voice rose with each word. "Guess what! Good side is gone! It left when you started yelling!" He struggled to stand, but Gibbs held him down.

"Let me go!"

"You're drugged and your heart is racing, Tony."

"I don't care!" Tony was now near tears. "They both trusted you, Gibbs." Abby came to the door, her already pale face nearly transparent.

"What the hell is going on?"

"He chased off Sam and Joseph." Tony flopped back on his bed, his hand over his thudding heart.

"You did what?"

"I got mad, confused, I don't know what the hell happened." Gibbs stood, trying to explain himself and failing miserably. He tried to explain what he'd been feeling, and what he was trying to work out, but he could tell from the two angry faces looking back at him that he wasn't doing it.

"Shit." Gibbs ran his hand over his mouth.

"Yes, you turned something good to shit, once again, Gibbs." Abby stared him down. "I can't believe you would do this! What is your problem?" She stomped forward and punched his arm. "She's hurt, so is he, and you hurt them more!"

"I know, Abbs." He sounded defeated. "I didn't mean to hurt them."

"Well, you did." She glared at him. "What are you going to do about it?"

################################

Sam looked up in surprise when her phone rang.

"Did you pick this up for me?" She searched for it, when Joseph held it out.

"I did, and it's him. You want to talk to him yet?" Sam bit her lip before nodding. She held her phone for a moment before silencing it.

"I'm not ready for that mess yet."

"He's probably worried about us being ok."

"He can worry." Sam took a draught of her coffee.

"You're still mad, huh?" Joseph smiled. He and his aunt had been talking for the better part of two hours, and both had vented anger and frustration about a lot of things.

Their rants had ranged from Vernon to Mary to the townspeople of Moronsville to the latest episode with Gibbs. Sam talked about her concerns of never being able to get a farm going successfully again, and Joseph opened up about his troubles in school.

"What troubles are you having in school?"

"Well, not trouble exactly, but it's more like the crap you're dealing with." Sam's eyes grew wide.

"Joseph! Why didn't you say anything? What are they doing?"

"Nothing really obvious." He shrugged. "If I get a good grade, people assume I cheated, if there's booze on the floor and the RA finds it, I get blamed, that sort of thing."

"Are you safe?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm safe." He shrugged. "All that happens is I get put on probation and get to study in quiet." He smiled. "They have a hard time proving I've cheated, because even when they give me an alternate test, I still get a 94 or above."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know they were doing that." Sam patted his hand. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"They get all over two other guys, too. It's not just me. It's just that," he paused. "I'm American Indian, and everyone is stuck on the idea of Tonto." Sam nodded. "They think we still live in tipis and burn buffalo dung." He grinned. "Well, we do, but only for special things." Sam rolled her eyes.

"What about the other guys?"

"One of them is an African American there on a football scholarship." Joseph shrugged. "He's really smart, but nobody pays any attention to that. So he gets pranks played on him all the time, like he doesn't need to study or something." Joseph grimaced. "He came for football, but he could have gotten other scholarships, I'm sure of it. He was valedictorian of his class."

"Smart kid."

"Yeah. But nobody wants to look beyond the bulging muscles and uniform."

"That's so sad. What about the other kid?" Joseph smirked.

"He's an Anglo, just like them." He shook his head. "The kid is a walking brain." Sam nodded for him to go on. "His family is poor, and the other kids are there with their parents money. He got a free ride from his dad's company to go to school, so long as he gives them two years of his time once he's out."

"That's great!"

"It is." Joseph nodded. "Only he let some of the "in" guys know, and they decided that he's a waste." He rolled his eyes. "Those two are going to blow me out of the water with grades, and yet we're the ones who have to deal with the crap from the real slackers."

"Sounds like you have a couple of friends in them?" Joseph grinned.

"We have the best study group on the entire campus." He turned serious. "An' Sam?"

"Yeah?"  
>"What's wrong with people?"<p>

"What do you mean?"

"Well, people make fun of one another everywhere. They pick on who they see as the weak one. Why?"

"I don't know." Sam sighed. "I have an idea of why, though."

"Yeah?"

"People get jealous of those who have a talent they don't, or get suspicious of those who are different."

"But Craig isn't the only African American on campus."

"True, but is he the only one there on a football scholarship?"

"No, but he's the only one that doesn't party." He grinned. "Out of the football players, though." He winked. "Now the cheerleaders, on the other hand…"

"Joseph Ellis Yellow Hand!"

###########################

"You know, you really should call and tell him that we're ok. He's called multiple times. Like often enough that I turned my phone off."

"Then you call him. Besides, I turned my phone off after the fourth time he called."

"I don't think I'd be ready to be nice if he got nasty."

"And that's why I've not answered." Sam thought for a moment. "Call Tony. He can tell Gibbs that we're doing fine."

"If I'm supposed to be calling him, who are you dialing?"

"Jack. Just to be sure we're really welcome."

"You think Gibbs would do that?"

"No, but I think Jack is Gibbs father."

"Gotcha." They waited with their phones plastered to their ears, hoping their respective contacts would answer quickly.

"_Joseph?"_ Tony's voice rang out from his phone.

"This is me!" The young man sounded chipper, and Tony flipped a thumbs up to Abby. "Just letting you know we're ok."

"Thank God." Tony sighed. "We were getting ready to trace your phones."

"We've not been gone that long."

"Four hours, Joseph! Four hours! And when you should be under protective custody, and you took off, that's forever. My heart is gone, Gibbs is wanting to kill me, Ziva has threatened to end my reproduction abilities, and if anything happens to you, I'm dead.

"As in I broke all sorts of rules and regulations when I let you guys leave. Blame it on the pain pills, but I know better. Gibbs is worried sick, too. Where are you?"

"We're at the Flying J, only about an hour away." The younger man spoke softly. "Do you really think we're in danger?"

"Yeah." Joseph could just see Tony's expression in his mind. He sounded off with the "duh" in his tone. "You could be in danger. Stay there in public. Don't get back on the road. Stay there. We're on the way."

"We didn't mean to worry you guys."

"Then you should have answered your phones." Joseph was surprised when Gibbs came on.

"You guys alright?"

"I don't see why you care." He bit his lip as soon as he said it.

"I'm sorry, Joseph."

"For what?"

"I'll talk to you both when you're home and I'm sure you're safe."

"You really are worried, aren't you?" He could hear Gibbs swallow.

"Yeah. I messed up."

"Yes, you did. We'll wait, but I'll not promise to stay at your house."

Sam's call was vastly different. She sat back, relaxed, listening to Jack fuss over them from his store counter. He was furious with them for worrying everyone, but his relief at them being alright far outweighed his momentary temper.

"_Just next time, don't run, ok, Sam?"_

"Ok, Jack, I'll keep my feet in place."

"_I'm serious, Darlin', you could have gotten hurt. That Carol woman is still out there, and who knows who else she has pulling stuff for her."_

"I really didn't think about that, Jack."

"_I know. And I know my son can be a pistol." _She waited. _"But give him a chance to explain. He feels things deeper than anyone else I've ever known. Possibly because he keeps it all in."_ Another pause. _"But he cares for you and that boy. I don't know what he said, but I do know that he's called me so many times this morning I think I may as well just tape it to my ear. He's worried, he's feeling bad, and he's trying to figure it out."_

"Alright, Jack." Sam sighed. "I'll give him a chance."

They sat at the stop until Ziva and Tim, driven by Pete, whipped into the parking lot. The three agents walked in quickly, not bothering to even answer the hostess as she asked them how many they had in their party.

"You guys have caused so much…"

"Trouble, we know." Sam stood and stretched. "I'm sorry. We didn't realize how long we were here." The three agents just stared back at the two others. Tim finally spoke.

"Rule 3, guys. Never be unreachable." He looked from one to the other. "You turned off your phone. In the Gibbs universe, to which you now belong, you never, and I mean _never_ do that."


	56. Chapter 56

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar for being my amazing beta! Love you! ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: Sorry getting chapters up didn't happen this weekend. RL kinda got in the way.

###########################

Ziva drove Tony's car with Sam and Joseph back to DC. For the first few minutes, she was quiet. Sam tried to get her involved in a conversation, only to be shut down. When Ziva did speak, she began by informing the pair that they had behaved terribly.

"Have you ever considered that he has been dealing with his own problems? That he has never properly dealt with the death of his wife?" Sam sat silently.

"I thought…"

"That what, he had moved on? Why do you think he has a trail of ex-wives? He never speaks of what he actually feels. He let go of his emotions, he said what his heart felt. It was not directed at you." She looked over at Sam. "So what if he yelled at you? Were you standing before him? Was he demanding answers from you?"

"An' Sam heard him yelling and went to check on him! What's the crime in that?"

"There is no _crime_, Joseph." Ziva scoffed. "Only inconsideration."

"What are you telling us, Ziva?" Sam's voice was quiet. "I understand that we screwed up. It was wrong to leave like we did. It was wrong to take his words personally." She swallowed. "I need for you to tell me what I'm not understanding. What is so clear to you?"

"Every one of his ex-wives was a replacement for his first wife. Someone to simply be with him, but he was unable to love them and not feel as if he was betraying her. He wanted no more children, so he wouldn't "replace" his daughter, or bring a child into the world who he would feel anger toward." Ziva sighed. "I learned after returning from a difficult mission in Somalia the difference between mourning and releasing. He never has. He has held onto his sorrow, love, pain, and loss simply because he is afraid to let them go. How do I know this? I struggled with the same things, and I had to understand them before I could move on after Somalia."

"So he's never tried to move on?" Sam was confused. He'd tried, obviously, so where was the break?

"He is afraid that if he truly moves forward in his life, that he will betray their memory. He is terrified of forgetting them."

"But you never forget them. You let them go so you can be free, and they can do the same."

"He does not understand that." Ziva shot Sam a furious look. "He started to work through the process of letting go of decades of hurt and pain, and you forced him to shut down yet again." Her passengers looked stricken. Sam silently wept, while Joseph struggled to find words.

"I, I'm sorry, Ziva." He paused. "Never thought he…"

"You never thought, that is correct, and it is not me you need to apologize to."

################################

Gibbs got a call from Tim, letting them know they were on their way home. He was back in his basement, sanding as he tried to clear his head. He had to figure out what to say to them, yet the only steady thoughts he had were of Shannon, Kelly, and how he dreaded losing them forever if and when he forgot them.

Perhaps that is what he needed to explain to Sam. Maybe she could help him. She seemed to be happier than he was, yet she'd lost her husband more recently. Perhaps it was because they had time to say good-bye. Perhaps it was something more. But he was willing to find out.

He looked at his watch. Given the time Tim had called, there was still nearly twenty minutes before they arrived. However, Ziva was driving. He shrugged. _They'll get here when they get here._ He jogged upstairs and started a fresh pot of coffee before returning to his boat. He had to keep his hands busy and his mind occupied.

Joseph sighed and resettled in his seat. His mind raced, and he wondered how he'd make it up to Gibbs. The older man was already a fixture in his life, and he'd screwed it up already. A tear tracked down his cheek as he watched trees and buildings fly by. His dad was right. He was a screw up. He couldn't even keep a new friend in his life for more than three months. All because he panicked. He should have known Gibbs wasn't mad at them. He should have known that Gibbs wasn't like his father. He should have known he was only venting. He should have known to stop their flight.

Up in the front seat, Sam grew more nervous by the mile. She'd not even considered that Gibbs didn't understand the difference between mourning and letting go. She contemplated her own grief. She'd gone through the anger with Ellis, and through the denial. She'd bargained and begged the Creator the entire time he'd been sick, begging for healing and promising to do difficult things if only Ellis were allowed to live.

She'd felt the guilt on so many occasions. Guilt that she'd not done more, guilt that she'd not been a better wife, even though she couldn't think of what else she should have done. She'd been through the guilt of being the one to live. She'd even returned to it several times, and experience told her she'd return to it all sometime. Grief isn't over in a day. It's a process, and some days are better than others.

She'd dealt with the overwhelming sadness that wanted to keep her in bed for days at a time. She'd beaten it with the help of her beloved goats and her good friend Sally. That didn't mean sorrow didn't cling to her at times. However, she'd learned to not let the sorrow rule her.

Sam had seen her life slowly rebuild into what she thought it would be. She mentally shrugged. She was rebuilding right now. It was a process, and would change again. She was alive, Ellis was gone, and she was learning to live without him. This was part of life and love.

There were times when she could think of Ellis and have joy in his memory. Other times, it was a knife in her heart to think of his loss. Her mind wandered down paths, and she wondered if Gibbs had ever allowed himself to go through the entire process, or if he was stuck in his anger.

She sighed and leaned her head against the window. Even if he was angry, it didn't give him the right to yell at her. But was now the time to talk to him about it? Or should she let it go? Sam sighed. It needed to be addressed now. He had no right to shout at her, even if she wasn't there without explaining why he was angry with her. She'd just have to tread carefully.

######################################

Gibbs heard a car pull in and resisted the urge to run up the stairs for a heartbeat. Then he found himself standing at the basement door, wondering what he'd say. His feet moved him to the kitchen, where he poured himself a fresh cup of coffee.

The door opened, and he held his breath, still struggling to find the words. How did he tell her what he was thinking and feeling? Never once had he tried to push past these things. He had always pushed these things aside. They weren't necessary. Or maybe they were. He just didn't know anymore.

Sam entered, expecting to find Gibbs staring them down. He had every right to. They'd disrespected his home, his emotions, and his hospitality. She tread carefully, not sure of where he would be. When he came from the kitchen, she felt her world tilt. He looked like shit.

His eyes focused everywhere but on her. He mumbled a greeting, fumbled with his coffee cup, and looked more uncomfortable than she knew a man could. Guilt and aggravation raced through her. Guilt that she'd not seen through his mask, and aggravation that she'd missed the fact that he wore one.

"Hey." Joseph spoke softly from behind her, scooting past to take a seat on the couch. Tony nodded to him, both men watching the drama unfold in the hall.

"I, uh," Sam looked down at her feet. Gibbs grunted. "I think we should talk." Gibbs shot a glance to the living room where Joseph, Tony, Abby and Tim sat. Ziva stood behind Sam, as if keeping the door safe from either of them bolting.

"Basement?"

"Sure." Gibbs nodded and headed down the stairs, Sam not far behind.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, he walked over and poured a bit of bourbon in to his now-empty mug. With a tip of the bottle to Sam, he offered her some. She accepted and watched as he poured a shot for her. She came to his side and sipped a bit.

"I'm glad you're safe." She barely heard him, even though they were nearly side by side.

"I'm sorry we left like we did." Her voice was just as quiet. He accepted her apology for now with a nod of his head. He wanted to talk to her more about it, but this was a start.

He started to sand. After a few minutes of watching, she joined him. They stood three ribs apart, each one trying to find the words they wanted. Both attempted to speak, only to stop themselves after drawing a breath.

#########################################

Joseph stood and paced. He looked to the door, wondering what was happening down there. He didn't hear anything, and he expected at least shouting.

"Sit down, Joseph." Tony was quiet. "Pacing won't do any good. If there's not shouting or splintering wood, we can assume that they are at least still alive."

"I can't sit."

"Why not?" Abby was concerned. "You're here, Gibbs isn't up here reading you the riot act…"

"That's just it." Joseph sighed. He went on to explain how he'd realized how wrong he was in lumping Gibbs in with his father, and reacting to the older man's venting.

"While I have to agree that you were wrong in leaving last night, I can understand why you would react like you did." Tim sat forward. "You reacted out of fear, as I have done," he looked around, "as we all have." He thought for a moment. "Gibbs is understanding. But you need to talk to him."

"Ok." Joseph took in a deep breath. "When he's done talking with An' Sam."

"Speaking of which, do you think they're talking, or are they both pulling the functional mute card?" Joseph grinned.

"If I know my aunt, she's down there writing a letter to him. She does better with pen and paper than with her voice sometimes."

"I could listen." Abby smirked.

"I would not suggest it." Ziva finally spoke. "They both need to clear their thoughts."

Downstairs, Gibbs and Sam still sanded. They moved in a rhythm, the strokes both used seeming to be in unconscious accord.

"I was wrong, Gibbs." Sam finally spoke. "I shouldn't have gotten angry with you."

"Ya think?" His words held no rancor, simply rebuff.

"I guess I need to know what I did to make you angry." Gibbs sighed.

"I'm not good with words." Sam nodded, simply waiting in silence until he spoke again. "I'm not sure how to explain this."

"Then I'll be quiet unless I need to ask a question." He nodded, accepting her terms. When he spoke, his words were halting and slow.

"I realized I was doing it again." He paused, sanding as he gathered his thoughts. That wasn't where he wanted to start. "Shannon and I talked about what would happen if one of us passed." Sam felt tears sting her eyes. "She talked about getting married again, and what she hoped for each of us. But I don't know how to." He stumbled over a few disjointed words before falling silent once again. Sam sanded and sipped, deciding it was time to break the quiet.

"This is good whiskey."

"That's bourbon." Sam grinned.

"No, it's whiskey. Every bourbon is a whiskey, but not every whiskey is a bourbon. This, my friend, is whiskey."

"Do tell." Gibbs smirked, welcoming the break from the heavy emotions he'd been failing to express.

"First off, this is some of that fancy stuff Tony imports, right? The stuff he's so proud of every Christmas?"

"He told you about it, huh?"

"Morphine. It's great stuff." She smirked. "I'd never break his heart, but by international agreement, only bourbon can be made here in America." He scoffed. "No, seriously. Look it up. He imports it, it's whiskey." She pulled down the bottle and showed him the fine print that he'd ignored year after year.

_A Smooth Whisky_

"Just don't tell DiNozzo." Sam chuckled.

"Never. You don't want to end up with some $6.99 bottle of cut rate stuff next year." With a nod, they went back to sanding, allowing Gibbs to gather his thoughts once again.


	57. Chapter 57

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger for being my awesome beta! Love you, Dude! Ptbbbbbbbbb!

Note: This needs a tissue warning. My apologies for the short chapter...this needed to not be lost...

#########################################

Sam waited a while, hoping Gibbs would begin speaking again. He didn't, but his look of concentration made it obvious that he had more than the wood he worked on his mind. A heavy sigh, a mumbled curse, and a frustrated grunt was all he came up with.

"We lost our first baby only a year after we were married." She sighed. "I thought that with my parents passing, I had learned to grieve. I didn't." There was no response. "Five more babies, and with the last pregnancy, I hemorrhaged. It was either have a hysterectomy or bleed to death. I was unconscious, and Ellis had to make the choice." She swallowed hard. "He had just gotten home. I'd gotten pregnant when he was on his last weekend free before he retired. We had been thrilled that we'd have a child to love finally." She wiped at her eyes. "When we lost him, we lost our chances for a child forever." Silence reigned for a few minutes while she gathered herself together once again. Gibbs nearly went to her, but was held in place by emotion.

"When Ellis first died, I wanted to die with him." Sam heard his sandpaper hitch in its movement. "I didn't know what to do with myself." She swallowed hard, and Gibbs glanced at her. She had set her sander down and was tracing the grain of the wood with her finger.

"The hospice councilor had given me information on the "seven steps of grief." She made the air quotes as she spoke. "They were useless words on a page." Jethro felt tears sting his own eyes. He knew exactly what she spoke of. He'd been given a similar list from a well-meaning neighbor a week after his girls' funeral.

"I had no idea how to go about looking for the steps, or getting through them. I mean, what the hell does it mean to deny that a person has passed, or why would someone bargain to bring back what can't be brought back?" Gibbs felt his heart pound as he realized his questions would soon have answers.

He nodded when Sam looked at him, her eyes swollen and red. Tears stood in her eyes, as if she refused to let them fall. He didn't realize that his own face bore the same look.

"What did you do?" His voice barely carried to her ears. His own sanding had ceased, and he waited for her to continue.

"I sweat, and I worked, and I cried." She looked back to the rib of the boat before her, as if afraid to meet his eyes. "I'd make progress in area, and retreat in another." Gibbs nodded, understanding. "I came to grips with the reality that if I ever married again, it would need to be to a man who didn't want children." She swallowed hard. He took over speaking.

"I thought I worked through everything." He practically whispered. "Then it all hit again, and I started to wonder what was wrong with me." His voice shook. "I felt anger, and pain, and sorrow, but I never was able to accept that they were gone. That they had been stolen from me." He drew in a shaky breath, and Sam nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"How do you accept that they're gone? How do you move on from that? I tried, time and again, but each time, their memory started to fade, and I got angry that I was betraying them."

"How does it betray them to learn to love again?" The question hit him, and he turned to his work table, pouring himself another finger of alcohol. He swallowed it with Sam watching closely.

"Jethro? How does it betray them?" His eyes darted from her to the boat. He wanted to stop talking, but knew that telling her that was going to be the wrong answer. If he stopped, he'd never want to start again, and they both knew it.

"I begin to forget them." His face hardened. "I begin to forget their faces, how they spoke." He drew in a shaky breath. "I start to forget _them_. How they laughed, and it gets worse every day." He now leaned against the rib he had been sanding, nearly embracing it.

"I've forgotten so much." Sam put a hand between his shoulder blades, simply lending support. "Some days I think I can remember what kind of perfume she wore, and other days, I smell something, and I wonder if that was it." He hit the rib angrily. "My clearest memory of Kelly is her begging me to not leave on my last deployment." He allowed himself to shed his long-held tears.

"It's like she's begging me to not forget them. And I don't know how to remember them and…" he finished with an anguished cry, his words useless.

Sam rubbed up and down his spine, her touch slow and gentle as he finally allowed himself to weep. He'd always approached his sorrow through anger, refusing to let the absolute heartbreak he felt surface. When he turned to face her, both had tears staining their reddened faces. He reached out, his hand cupping the back of her head as he pulled her to his chest.

There was no hidden agenda to their embrace, no romance coming between them as they leaned into one another. They shared the understanding of losing spouses and children. There were no platitudes uttered, no useless comforts that weren't sincere. In the silence, understanding and acceptance of another's faults wound around them.


	58. Chapter 58

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar, my overworked yet amazing beta! Love you!

Note: The "kids" are naughty in this one. We need a break from the angst and sorrow. So get ready for the equivalent of Keystone Kops. I don't own them, either. But they're fun. So let's play. Lots of stuff they'd never do. But it's fun.

###########################################

"Do you think they're ok down there?" Joseph stood with his eyes fixed on the basement door. Sam and Gibbs had disappeared downstairs nearly three hours ago.

So far, Abby had been to the kitchen twice, each time pausing with her ear pressed to the basement door in the hopes of hearing something. Tony had gone once, doing much the same. Ziva had gone to the kitchen, slowing slightly, but then she'd been trying to hear through the vent in the floor of the bathroom. She admitted to hearing nothing, so Tim began constructing a boy scout worthy listening device with two cellphones and speaker wire. He knew it wouldn't actually work, but the fun and building excitement was hard to pass up.

He finished and slid it into a heating vent as Joseph and Tony stood guard. The three were snickering like naughty schoolboys. Abby and Ziva rolled their eyes, wondering how the guys would explain themselves when Gibbs and Sam caught them.

"Nothing." Tim frowned.

"Turn up the volume." Joseph shrugged.

"If I do that, then they can hear us, too."

"And that would be bad."

"That would be very bad." Tony scowled. "As much as I love prying into everyone's business, I do believe that this is a sign that we are to keep out." Tim nodded.

"Bummer." Joseph grinned. "This was the most fun I've had since we cemented the toilets to the front of the school."

"You did what?" Abby stood with her mouth agape.

"We cemented toilets to the front of the school." Joseph grinned. "And put chickens in the piano before a choir concert." He started to laugh. "They all roosted down, and then the teacher hit the first note." His hands flew high as he laughed. "Player piano!"

He flinched as Abby hit his arm. "What was that for?"

"You hit a defenseless chicken!"

"I didn't!" He shook his head. "The piano hammer did." She glared at him.

"That's not an excuse, Joseph Yellow Hand. He was defenseless, and you hit him."

"_He _was a hen. She was a girl." Another punch had him rubbing his upper arm.

"That's worse, Joseph. And to think I was beginning to like you."

"You can still like me, Abby." He poured on the charm. "It was a mistake of my youth." Ziva laughed.

"Tony, I do believe you have met your match." He rolled his eyes.

"Funny, Ziva. Real funny."

Joseph's stomach grumbled loudly. He smirked and looked to Tony.

"Talking about chickens always makes me hungry." Another hit landed to his arm. "I'm going to bruise, you know."

"I understand your desire for meat," Abby glared at him comically. "However, to get hungry simply at the _mention_ of an animal is disturbing."

######################################

Tony paid the delivery man, and Tim carried the bags to the kitchen where the girls set about removing lids and opening paper boxes. Joseph looked on in interest. A new smell hit his nose.

"That smells really spicy." He sniffed again, his brow furrowed. "Like, hot spicy."

"It is more flavorful than hot." She handed Joseph a plate. "You have not had Chinese food before?"

"Sweet and sour chicken and fried rice." He shrugged as he looked into the various containers. "What's good?"

"It is all good. Take a spoon of everything, and once you have tried it, decide."

"Sounds good." He scooped up a sample of the six dishes and retreated to the living room where he claimed a spot on the couch.

As the others fixed their plates and took their time, he sampled the first small pile he'd made. It was spicy, but not enough to burn, but the flavor was wonderful. Definitely chicken, and the breading made it all the better. His next selection was beef with broccoli. He tried it, but it seemed bland after his first, so he finished it quickly just to get it over with.

The next had him wondering if he really wanted to try it. It looked appetizing, but at the same time, he wasn't in the habit of eating so many things in one bite. Shredded carrots, diced peppers, peanuts, chicken, and some long red pepper were jumbled together in a thin brown sauce. It smelled like it was the hottest of the foods, but then again, Ziva said the food had no real heat. He scooped up the entire mess and ate it just as Tim walked in.

"Don't eat the…"

Joseph's eyes flew wide as he looked for a way to get rid of the burning. He wasn't sure what was so hot, but something was burning the crap out of his mouth.

"Dude, just spit it out. You can get a new plate." Tony stood at Tim's elbow. He called back for one of the ladies to bring a glass of water.

Joseph had learned early on that if you ate something, you swallowed it. Food wasn't meant to be wasted, but this was one time that he disobeyed that hard-learned rule. He spit the spicy mess onto his plate, tears forming in his eyes from the unexpected pain. He chugged the first glass handed to him, relieved that it was ice cold water. The next, he drank a little slower, letting the milk pull the heat from his burning lips and cheeks.

"What the hell was that?"

"That is called a Chi-Chen, and you're not supposed to eat it." Tim took Joseph's plate to the kitchen and brought back a bowl of plain white rice. "Next time, set that aside, either on the edge of your plate, or leave it in the container."

"Good to know." Joseph took the bowl and made a face.

"The white rice will absorb the heat, un-Probie. Trust the Probie, un-Probie." Tony grinned and looked around at his companions. "Un-Probie. I like it. Probie, Probette, un-Probie, and Abby."

"Yeah! I get my own name!"

##########################################

Jethro felt as though he'd come apart and had been pieced together in a way he was unfamiliar with. His head hurt. He wasn't sure why, but it throbbed. And yet he felt…clear.

Sam backed up from where she was cuddled into his chest and looked into his eyes.

"How are you?" Her question was quiet.

"I'm… not sure." She cocked an eyebrow. "Headache, but it's not bad. More like I got rid of one I didn't know I had."

"I totally know that feeling." She lay her head on his chest again. "Close your eyes, Gibbs."

"What?" He chuckled.

"Close your eyes." She spoke slowly and looked up a moment later to see if he'd obeyed.

"Now what?"

"Now, I want you to remember a time with Shannon and Kelly." She felt him tense, and knew he was remembering when Kelly begged him to not leave.

"Don't think about her begging you, Jethro." She sighed and stroked along his spine. "Think of some happy time. Perhaps a picnic, or maybe a holiday, or maybe even a time when you cuddled with them in bed." She felt him relax a bit. "And when you find a memory, tell me about it."

"We decided to go to the beach for the weekend." He sighed. "It was Sunday morning, and we had breakfast out on the patio." His arms tightened around Sam, and he ran his fingers along the seam on the cowl of her shirt. "Kelly was laughing, asking if we'd have a new baby since we were on vacation and staying in a new house." She felt him smile as he lay his head on hers. "We asked her why she thought that, and she'd heard one of Shannon's friends talking about moving, and how she was ready for another baby." Sam chuckled, and Gibbs continued. "She'd said the old phrase of "new house, new baby", and thought that since we were in a new house for vacation, that we were going to have a new baby. As in we were going to go pick one out, like we'd picked out a puppy."

"What did you tell her?"

"That if Mommy and I decided to have another baby, then we'd have one the same way we had her." He laughed softly. "She was so upset. She hoped to have a baby brother by the time we went home."

"She sounds adorable."

"She was." He sighed. "She and her mother were…beautiful. Inside and out."

"That's a wonderful memory, Gibbs." She paused a moment. "I want you to remember everything you can about that morning. The wind, the sun, bird calls, everything that was there." She felt him begin to breathe deeply, pulling himself inward to remember.

"Wow. It's like I'm there almost." He spoke after several minutes of soaking in the memory.

"Perfect, stay there, ok?"

"Yeah." He sighed. "I can do that."

"Good. Can you feel their love?"

"Yes. I can."

"This is where they live, Jethro. Even if you forget everything else, this is where they are. They'll be waiting for you at that table every time you walk out of the house to sit with them."

"Why do I want them there?" She felt him tensing again.

"Because even when you feel that you're ready to move on, they'll be there. That won't change. And when you can't pull up the memory? You can still remember the feeling of their love. You'll never lose them, Jethro. They're there. And they're not going to leave, and you're not going to leave them.

"The important things aren't her perfume, or how many times she brushed her hair in the mornings." Sam cleared her throat. "The important thing is the love they felt for you, and the love you have for them. Remembering that will help you move on."

Gibbs was silent for a while, and Sam wondered if she'd upset him rather than helped him. She knew that he worried about forgetting some things, and she hoped her words hadn't diminished or belittled what he wanted to remember. He sighed heavily and moved slightly, cradling her closer to his heart.

"Where does Ellis live for you?"

"He's in the loft."

"When he lived up there, or after you were married?"

"He's upstairs writing me a letter." She smiled. "We'd had a fight, and just couldn't seem to talk to one another without misunderstanding what we were trying to say. So we separated to write letters explaining what we meant."

Gibbs huffed, imagining how that would have possibly saved at least one of his marriages.

"He was gone for hours, and I'd started to worry, so I climbed the ladder and just looked over at where he sat. He started talking, just reading what he'd written. I'd stayed where I was, and when he was done, he motioned me over." Gibbs looked down, amused when he saw her reddened ears.

"Burn the barn down?"

"You have no idea." Both chuckled. "Ellis is there, and when I need him, I can go visit him and hear his words. I can hear his concern, his love, but most importantly, I know that he doesn't mind me learning to live without him."

"I'm not sure I'm able to do that." Gibbs voice hitched. "I feel so guilty."

"And that's another thing to work through. It's a process, Gibbs. A long one, and we go back through it several times. And that's what it takes. Grief takes a long time."

"It's been 20 years."

"Yes, and they've been telling you all along that it's ok to love them but move on." He started to argue, but she stopped him. "Just listen, ok? Moving on doesn't mean you forget, Jethro. It doesn't mean you stop feeling guilt, or that you stop caring. It simply means that you learn to go on despite the pain."

"I have been going on."

"Not with a complete life, you haven't. You've been going on, but you've been going on dragging a life of pain with you. Shannon and Kelly don't want you to live like that." She let him think on that for a moment. He pulled back and began sanding again. She joined him in working.

"Ellis let me go before we left the farm."

"He told me it was time to stop wondering what he'd have me do, to stop fretting over what he'd want done with the farm, and it was time to let him go so I could love again when it was time." Gibbs felt uncomfortable, and she saw it.

"Don't worry, that wasn't a line." He smirked in response. "You're not my type." That drew a chuckle.

"I have to admit that that line of thought is what got me upset in the first place. I was wondering what I was doing." He went on to describe the thoughts he'd had of her in harsh honesty.

To his relief, she wasn't upset with his honesty. She added in her own teases of herself, and he relaxed, giving an accurate description of everything that let up to his venting in the basement. Sam continued sanding after he finished speaking, wanting to be sure that her words were in order.

"That makes a lot of sense, Gibbs. I'm so sorry we left before talking to you."

"It's ok."

"No, it's not." She turned to him, her eyes filled with fresh tears. "You were reaching the point of dealing on your own, and I treated you and your pain with disrespect."

"But you didn't know what was going on."

"No, but I should have asked, and I didn't."

"You did." He looked embarrassed for a moment. "I yelled at you for asking."

"Would you let me apologize?"

"Rule six. Don't apologize."

"Do you have a way to make it right?"

"Don't need to. That's the same as apologizing."

"That's part of your problem, Gibbs." He glared at her.

"What does that mean?"

"That means that if you can't forgive, apologize, or make things right, you can't move past the guilt." He grumbled for a moment. "Apologies aren't a sign of weakness, Jethro. They're actually a sign of strength. Only a strong person can admit to being wrong."

"I don't agree with that at all." His voice had an edge to it.

"You don't have to." She shrugged. "Just think about it. How much courage and integrity does it take to keep insisting you're right when you know you're not? How much courage does it take to stand and look someone in the eye and admit you were wrong?"

He grumbled, trying to come up with a good response. He couldn't find one. Not a nice one, anyway. With great irritation, he had to admit she was right. He'd apologies to Shannon and Kelly, but after their deaths, he'd found it hard to admit when he was wrong.

Sam kissed his cheek, informing him that she was heading upstairs.

"I'll be up soon."

"No rush." She smiled. "I'll send Joseph down with dinner if you're not up yet."

"Thanks. I need to talk to him, anyway."

"Yeah, but not yet." He smiled after her as she mounted the stairs. She was so much like Shannon, and yet so different.


	59. Chapter 59

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar for being my AMAZING beta! Love you! PTbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: I would like to take a moment and thank everyone who has sent me stories of dealing with their own grief. There are seven stages of grief: shock or disbelief, denial, bargaining, guilt, anger, depression, acceptance and hope. Everyone who is grieving will face these stages, but everyone will face them differently, and in a different order. The steps aren't "once and done", but are an ongoing process that is repeated over and over.

A person may "finally reach" acceptance and hope, only to return to shock or anger. This is normal! The pain of loss will dim with time, but it never disappears. Everyone needs time, and should be given the love and support they need as they deal with their loss. So many of you have shared stories of being set up for a date the day your divorce was final, or being told by friends and family that it's time to stop crying because "you're making me uncomfortable".

Here is a hug. If you know someone who is going through the process of grief, please be gentle. Please allow the person to experience their emotions and work through them. And, please remember that divorce is the death of a relationship. Please don't assume that someone is happy to be divorced. And even if someone is relieved, it doesn't mean that they will be ready to move on immediately, or that they won't have times of grief. Thanks for reading. I'll hush now.

#############################################

Joseph stood with a plate full of food at the top of the basement stairs. His "uncle" still hadn't come up, and he worried that he had jeopardized his relationship by giving into his feelings of panic the night before. His aunt had reassured him, but he'd not rest until he'd found out and made things right.

After another deep breath and a mental reminder that he deserved whatever his uncle dished out, he twisted the handle and began his decent into Gibbs' domain. The smell of sawdust hung in the air, and the gentle swish-shoosh of sandpaper running over wood filled the silence.

Gibbs didn't look up as Joseph walked down, getting his own thoughts in order of what to say to the young man. He'd had to remind himself several times that although Joseph carried strength and dignity with him like a second skin, the younger man was still a boy in so many ways.

Joseph set his load down. "You're making a lot of progress." Gibbs simply nodded.

"Look, um, I'm sorry, Uncle Gibbs." Joseph shrugged. "Maybe I ruined that, and can't call you uncle anymore."

"You didn't ruin it." Gibbs still didn't look at him. "People make mistakes, and family hurts one another sometimes. But you're family, and just like you'll never be rid of your aunt, you'll never be rid of me."

"Good." He picked up a sanding block and started to work. "I was worried." Gibbs huffed. "We shouldn't have left like we did."

"No, you shouldn't have." They sanded for a few more minutes. "Why did you leave? I know why your aunt wanted to leave."

Joseph explained about dealing with his father for years. He told of being put in the middle and having to soothe arguments between his parents. Gibbs listened, getting a better understanding of his young friend with every sentence.

"I may get upset from time to time, kiddo, but I'll never put you between your aunt and me."

"I guess I'm just so used to being there."

"Which isn't where you belong." Gibbs sighed. "I can't right all of the wrongs your dad did to you." He met Joseph's eyes. "But I can promise to do my best to not make the same mistakes. You're family, and family shouldn't be treated like that."

"Thanks." Joseph cleared his throat. "I'll try to remember that you and An' Sam aren't them."

"Good deal. Was it just your dad who pulled crap?"

"My mom, too. She'd do quieter stuff. Not yelling, but she'd pull the emotional games." Joseph sighed. "When you started to yell, all I could think of was one of my dad's blind rages. And then you started to yell at An' Sam."

"And the fear got the better of you."

"Yeah." They were quiet for a while. "You guys were down here for a long time." Gibbs chuckled at the barely concealed curiosity.

"Yeah, we've talked, and we're ok." A moment passed. "Are you and I ok?"

"Yeah, we're fine." Both guys sanded for a while. "Thanks."

"What are you thanking me for?"

"For not being pissed."

##############################

Christopher Southerland sat back. He'd come to this meeting expecting to have a terrible offer for a settlement, but this one was bad enough to make him want to stop negotiating. With another review of the papers before him, he sat forward, his game face on.

"This is too low."

"Why?" The legal rep sat back.

"Why?" Chris scoffed. "Do you forget settling out of court with that man who one of your reporters unintentionally offended?"

"That was a different case."

"Oh, because he was a man? Or because he wasn't American Indian? Do we have a case here for racism? Prejudice?" Chris enjoyed watching the man cower. "If I remember correctly, your settlement of one million dollars was for saying that he was an alleged dog abuser. Your newscaster, on four different occasions, accused Samantha Walking Tall of infidelity, spousal neglect, animal abuse, drug trafficking, and sexual abuse of minors." He smiled benignly.

"I believe my client has the right to a far larger settlement, and any judge or jury would agree. So either you provide me with a far larger offer, or I'll see you in court."

"How long do we have to get back to you?"

"My next meeting is in fifty minutes." Chris stood. "My patience with your establishment is over."

"This is our first meeting!"

"And you have a chance to make it right. If you don't, I'll have no problem suing your company for everything in the coffers and then some." He sneered. "America isn't laying down and accepting racism and sexism right now. You've just done both."

"ZNN did the same thing."

"Yes, and they ran a special correcting their errors, they made a large and satisfactory offer for settlement, and they have apologized to Mrs. Walking Tall in person. None of which your firm has attempted. So, before you begin to assume anything, check. You just cost yourself twenty minutes, simply because you irritated me."

"You can't do that!"

"Oh, yes, actually, I can. I can decide to see you in court rather than giving you the twenty minutes I'll let you have."

"I have thirty!"

"Another argument, and you'll have ten." Chris looked at his watch. "Twenty minutes, starting two minutes ago. I'd call, and not stand there gaping at me."

########################################

Carol drove past Gibbs house for the third time that month. There were still extra people at the agent's house, and she was smart enough to know that if she drove past too often, she'd get caught.

She returned home and pulled out the floor plans of Gibbs' house. Sometimes it paid to have friends in the architectural business. Especially when they lived in other states and really believed that she just wanted to check out the floor plan of a house she saw was for sale by owner.

After a moment of thought, she got online and started to look for the most neglected parts of a house. She figured that unless it was something minor, Gibbs would be all over it. He seemed to be that anal sort of man who prided himself on the small things.

To her surprise, dryer vents caused a few fires every year. She'd never even considered a dryer vent.

"No forced entry, and if I wait until the hoopla with her ends, no one will be around to be her little protector." Carol grinned to herself. She could wait. And when she was done, if things went according to plan, Sam Walking Tall would be dead.

However, she needed a plan. A beautiful, mistake free, plan. And she had plenty of time. The court cases were set to begin soon, and Carol knew Sam would be protected during that time.

##################################

Howard pulled his beat up old truck into a church parking lot and went in for the free dinner they offered. With a smile, he accepted a cot for the evening.

With his head resting on a pillow provided in part by his tax dollars and others kindness, he thought back on the man he'd killed just days ago. He wondered how long the body would really go undiscovered. If he'd get caught. He found he didn't care. The hunt had been exhilarating, and the kill… he didn't know the words to describe the rush he'd felt when he saw the man fall.

As he lay there, he thought back on how he'd been robbed by taxes. Taxes that paid for places like this. Yes, he had over $200,000 in an account, and he didn't need to be here. On the other hand, he'd lost so much simply because he took much from his trust at one time. This was his way of protesting.

One of his bunk-mates grumbled in his sleep, and Howard cursed at the "distraction". Then a plot began to form. More than simply ridding the world of beggars and thieves. He'd make an art of it. A hobby of sorts. Starting here. He'd made one kill, so a second one would be his last here. Then he'd move on. Two in each state. Two easy picks from shelters. With a smile, he slipped into sleep, dreaming of the hunt.

#################################

Sam argued a bit at bedtime, as she was worried about Gibbs needing a good nights' rest. He wanted her to take his room, and she wanted him to sleep. Joseph finally rolled his eyes.

"Would you guys knock it off?" He glared from one to the other. "I don't want to listen to it. You're both adults, you both know how to keep your hands to yourselves. Just share the freaking bed."

The young man flopped his head back down and covered up with his pillow. "College kid, trying to sleep here."

"Smartass." Sam laughed at him. "You can sleep through anything."

"Not through you two griping at one another." He picked up his head and glared through his yawn. "Bedtime. Go. Shut up."

"Why don't you go up, and I'll take the couch?" Sam tried one more time.

"Nope. Heard him. He snores."

"When did you hear me?" Gibbs snorted. "I've not slept since you got here."

"At the farm, bro, at the farm. Trust me. I'd not sleep, you'd wake up dead from suffocation, and it'd not be pretty."

"Wake up dead?"

Joseph looked at his uncle seriously. "I'm tired. Go away. Besides, you slept together already. In the literal sense. You slept. You're big. You can handle it."

Gibbs and Sam accepted defeat and headed upstairs.

"I can sleep on the boat, Sam."

"No, you need a good night's sleep." She started to laugh. "You realize the only problem we're having here is that there's not two armed agents right outside the door?"

Gibbs smirked as he settled between the sheets. Sam was already laying down, her back to him.

"Night, Gibbs."

"Night, Sam." The house fell silent. Silent, that is, save for Gibbs' snores.


	60. Chapter 60

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar, my amazing beta! Love you! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: Story is still AU and OOC… and that ain't gonna change.

###########################################

Sam was up at dawn, leaving Gibbs snoring into his pillow. Thankfully, he'd slept facing away from her, and she'd slept without feeling the need to smother him. She smirked to herself as she realized that Joseph's comparison of his nose to a Boeing 747 coming in for a landing wasn't too far off base. She left the bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Downstairs, Tony was quietly stewing over a cup of coffee.

"Good morning." He barely nodded in response. "Still upset?"

"Yeah, not with you." Tony shrugged. "I'm upset that I reacted like I did, and I put you in more danger."

"But that's not the underlying factor, is it?" He shot a Gibbs-worthy glare to her. "So, do tell?"

"I'm so pissed at Gibbs for shouting, but then, he has a right to. It's his house."

"So what has you so upset?" She sat, sipping her coffee.

"It was like my father was downstairs and I was a kid again." Sam just waited for him to continue. It took another cup of coffee for each of them, but he finally spoke. "I don't like feeling like that, and while I've seen Gibbs ticked off before, and he's said some rough stuff before, but this was the first time it felt, I don't know…personal…maybe."

"You should talk to him."

"No, way." He turned his cup from side to side. "He's so pissed at me right now, it's not even funny. I'm lucky to still have a job." She waited once again. "He was so mad at me for letting you go, and then we couldn't track you, and the more time passed, the angrier he got. Believe me, talking to him isn't a good idea. Not for me, anyway."

"I think you're wrong." Tony huffed and left the table. Now wasn't the time for well-meaning but misguided pep-talks by someone who didn't know Gibbs and his temper.

##########################################

Sam cracked the last of the dozen eggs into the mixing bowl and poured in some ranch dressing and a dash of garlic and onion. The pan was already hot, and with a sizzle, they poured down and began to fry. She began to mix them, adding shredded cheese as they cooked.

A second pan was heated and ready for the lightly buttered pieces of bread which would soon be toast. She'd tried the toaster a couple of times, but the taste wasn't the same. When she had a bowl piled high with scrambled eggs and a plate of toast, she called the three men to the table.

Tony and Joseph were there, stuffing their mouths full long before Gibbs made it down the stairs. He nodded a greeting to them, smirking as they mumbled around mouthfuls of egg and toast. Sam set a cup of coffee down before him, taking her own seat as she loaded her plate, leaving Gibbs to get his.

The younger two headed back to the living room where they resumed their video game duel. Joseph shouted in playful frustration when Tony snuck behind his character and delivered a blow that sapped all of his life-points but three.

"No fair!" Joseph groused. "A mosquito could kill me now."

"I know." Tony raised and lowered his eyebrows several times, striking out one last time at Joseph's character. "Ah, the satisfying grunt of an animated death." Joseph scowled.

"Never should have told you how to play this." Tony laughed.

"Suckah!"

"I'll sucker you." With that, Joseph used his magically revived elf to push Tony's gargoyle off a cliff.

##############################################

"Tony's still upset." Gibbs just nodded. "You should talk to him."

"Why? He knows he screwed up."

"He does." Sam huffed. "But that's all he knows."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean you should talk to him. And by talking, I mean listening. Not just staring at him with your mind on that damn boat instead of what he's saying."

"I listen."

"Like a man." She refilled both of their coffee cups. "You need to listen as a friend, not a boss."

"I do that." He sounded frustrated.

"No, you don't. Did you ask Tony why he sent us in his car, or did you just assume?"

"There was no point in asking him!"

"And that is why you need to talk to him now."

"I don't have time for this." He growled and rose.

"But you'll have time to train a new team leader when the misunderstanding grows?" Her eyebrows shot up. "Seems to me you'd be better off listening now."

"Why are you sticking your nose into this?"

"Why did you stick your nose into my troubles? Don't want to answer? Fine, I will. It's because I can help. Just like you can help me." A moment passed. "You need to sweat, Gibbs. Or something. You're still upset."

"Yes, I'm upset." He grumbled. "I keep getting pushed."

"No one is pushing you." Sam was still sitting at the table. "Just making you see what's before you. What you do with it is up to you."

Gibbs headed to the basement, grumbling over her words as he went. He sanded for nearly an hour before calling up the stairs for Tony. With his steps as slow as if he were heading to his execution, Tony started down the stairs. He stopped on the landing, as if afraid to move any farther.

"Well, come on down here." Gibbs didn't look up, and he knew his voice was snarkier than it needed to be. But he was tired of going over this crap. "Sam said we needed to talk. So you can start by telling me why you thought it was a good idea to break protocol." He waited a moment for Tony to finish coming down. When he didn't, Gibbs looked up.

Tony stood with his back pressed to the wall, his face a little pale. It took Gibbs a moment, but he remembered when he'd seen that look before. The first time his father had shown up to NCIS, Tony had given into the same physical reaction as soon as Sr. started to talk.

"Tony?" No reaction. His friend was somewhere, and it wasn't his basement. "Tony? What's going on?"

"Just fire me." Tony's voice was quiet. "I know you're pissed. And I know…"

"What the hell, DiNozzo? Yes, I was pissed, but you screwed up. Doesn't mean I'm gonna fire you. What's going on?"

With nervous eyes that darted back and forth from Gibbs to the door, Tony began explaining himself, starting with his agreement that Gibbs had the right to say whatever he said in his own home. Once that was firmly established, Gibbs got him moving farther on in his monologue by muttering a short, "Got it."

"…could hear was my father in a drunken rage. Joseph was getting scared, and Sam was hurt, and all I could think about was getting them away to somewhere safe." Tony stopped, swallowing hard.

"Go on." Tony looked up at his friend and mentor. The older man was leaning back on the railing, his hands behind him, as if passing the unspoken message that he'd listen and not be angry.

"I didn't want them to go to a hotel, because it wasn't safe, and I knew they'd be more exposed close by. Unless someone was watching the house, they'd not know Sam and Joseph left, and then they'd have to know which car was mine." He took a deep breath. "Looking back, it was a bad idea, but I couldn't think straight." Another deep breath. "It was like I was waiting for my dad to go ape again, and I had to get them away. I had to keep them safe."

Silence surrounded them for a few minutes. Gibbs wasn't sure if Tony was done, and Tony wasn't sure if Gibbs was ever going to speak. Gibbs, for his part, wasn't sure of where to begin. When had the lines between work and friendship become so blurred? But, then, with Tony, they always had been.

"I'm sorry that I hurt you, Tony." Gibbs spoke that one sentence, and then let it hang alone for a bit. "I do have a right to say my piece in my home, and I'm glad you agree." Tony nodded. "I'm frustrated, too, because I'd like to think that you know by now that I'll protect you. Keep you safe, even if I get mad." Tony's face turned red in an effort to not cry, but he nodded.

"I'm sorry I got so mad at you for telling them to go to Jack's, and I'm still not sure I understand it completely, but it seems you made the best choice at the moment." They were quiet for another time. "I'm not your dad, DiNozzo, and I'll not go off hitting, even if I go off yelling. Just remember that, ok?"

"Ok, Boss." Tony swallowed hard. "So I didn't cost myself my job?"

"No. Ya didn't. Ya didn't get yourself kicked out of my family, either. Not gonna get all sappy here, as I've done enough of that yesterday to last a lifetime, but you're mine, and that hasn't changed."

"Thanks, Boss."

"This keep you up all night? You look like hell." Gibbs took in Tony's rough appearance. "Go take a nap or something." With an awkward half-hug, he left Tony standing as he returned to his boat.

"We're good, then?"

"Yeah, we're good." Gibbs looked up. "I'm serious. Go get some rest."

######################################

Howard sat out in his truck the next morning after having breakfast at the shelter. He had his atlas of America spread out before him, and with a sense of determination, he plotted his course. He would drive from his current location in South Dakota down through Nebraska, Kansas, Oklahoma, and into Texas, where he'd wait to make his kills until he was near the western border.

If he stayed in the northern part of the state, he could zip across New Mexico and literally shoot up into Colorado for a day or two. There were vast deserts along the way, with sparse populations. Utah, Arizona and Nevada were the same, and that route would give him plenty of time to figure out California. That place was crawling with people, and Howard wasn't sure how he'd bag his kills unless he did them as drive-by's or slept on the street and took a more hands on approach.

He yawned and looked back at the map. With satisfaction, he realized that if he planned his trip wisely, he'd not recross any of the states, making him a non-suspect. He could have 19 states, or 38 kills by the time he reached Minnesota, and that state would give him kills 39 and 40. By then, he would have covered half of the land mass, and the remaining states would be easier, as they were closer together, giving him a quicker get-away.

The loud snorer from last night knocked his grimy hand against the truck's window.

"That offer of a ride still good?" Howard beamed a smile and nodded.

"Hop in!" The men drove for an hour, chatting aimlessly.

"So, where ya headed?" Snore asked, hoping to be invited along.

"Gonna go camping. You up for it?"

"Sure am!"

"Good." Howard smiled back. "I've got a favorite spot out in this one canyon."

"Sounds pretty."

"Oh, it's a view to die for."


	61. Chapter 61

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks, Headbanger! You rock as my beta! Love you! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: Moving the story along for a bit….Just bear with me, please.

###################################################

Christopher Southerland walked into another meeting, his satisfied smirk a foreshadowing of how this meeting would go. Agencies and networks had begun communicating with one another, giving warnings about the hardcore legal representative for Mrs. Walking Tall and his penchant for getting what he wanted.

Conversations between CLO's and CFO's revolved around the amounts he would accept, and options they needed to be ready with. The meetings were getting easier with the growing tales of his impatience and irritability. He'd already met with many of them, and the last four organizations were prepared to meet with him within the next two days.

Southerland walked into the office of yet another unfortunate corporate officer who was on the wrong side of a libel suit. He shook hands with the woman, keeping things pleasant for now. He had no doubt that she'd not be pleased if he took too much exception to the offer she had for him.

He hid his gloating smile behind a mask of displeasure as he read over the offer. It detailed an apology, corrections of previously printed false information, and a letter of apology that would be sent directly to Mrs. Walking Tall.

"The corrections and letter of apology are acceptable." Lisa nodded, waiting for the "but" to come. "However, I have to say that the settlement offer is unacceptable."

Lisa sat back, knowing how far she'd been allowed to dicker with the man. She'd started at the low end of her company's ability to settle, knowing Mr. Southerland would demand at least one, if not three, raises in the number. Unlike others, she'd left herself room to play.

What she hadn't counted on, was that Christopher had already done his homework and knew how much the paper empire had spent on past settlements. He'd come prepared with numbers of his own, and hers were nowhere near what he had in mind.

Before long, she was making a call of her own, trying to avoid a court appearance and the cost of a trial. When he left her office four hours after arriving, he was pleased, and the knowledge of settlements needing to be higher than those for individuals falsely accused for one or two crimes. He had a list of four wrongs to Samantha Walking Tall, and he demanded compensation for them all.

####################################

"No, Tony went home, and he's back on active duty!" Sam was still catching Sally up on everything that had gone on in the past week. With the exception of two weekends, the ladies had chatted every Saturday.

"_Hard to believe you've been away from here for eight months already."_

"Oh, believe me, I know it." Sam chuckled. "I miss my home."

"_I'll bet you do, Sweetie." _Sally cleared her throat. _"I miss you being just down the road."_

"I miss you being so close, too." Sam sighed. "Ok, enough of the depressing 'I miss you's.' Tell me how you and Aaron are, and I'm dying to know if Phyllis is still running her mouth."

"_You turning into the gossip now?"_

"No!" Both women laughed. "I'm just wondering if keeping all those idle words in her head have made her explode yet."

"_I'd tell you that you're rotten, but you already know it." Sally smiled, imagining her friends' nod. "Every time we go in for coffee, it's as if someone takes the Ugly Stick and beats us to it."_

"Silence, huh?"

"_As soon as we're noticed."_ Sam laughed.

"I know how that feels."

"_I know."_ Sally's voice took on an almost-evil gloating tone. _"Imagine how nice it'll be when all of this is done."_

"Oh, yeah." Sam sat up straighter. "I almost forgot to tell you! The trials are supposed to start next week."

"_Oh, Honey, around here, that's all anybody talks about! They're bringing in a judge from a neighboring county, and the rumors are that most folks aren't going with trial-by-jury, but they're just wanting sentencing."_

"Let me guess, we've got at least one exception to that."

"_How'd you guess? I'll bet you could even list the short, short, short list of names."_

After more laughter and throwing out names of people Sam guessed would want a trial by jury, with Phyllis on the top of her list, Sam brought the conversation back to a little seriousness.

"I don't have a full list of people, but is Amos safe from the legal crap? He never did anything but help me. I asked a few times if he was on the docket for anything, but no one ever gave me an answer."

"_Oh, no. He's fine. Amos is apparently in your fan club. He's so busy proclaiming your innocence and telling folks off for their debauchery over the years that Aaron is going over there every day just to make sure nobody's taken exception to him. It seems our timid Mr. Middleton has taken a decided stand against the evils around him."_

"You give that sweet old man a hug for me."

"_I sure will."_ They chatted a bit longer, Sam informing Sally of her need to be in court for the journalists, but perhaps not needing to testify, but she had to at least be there.

"_It'd be nice if you knew."_

"It would be, but I know Mr. Southerland, my lawyer, is trying to get me out of having to testify on emotional grounds." She snickered. "From what I've heard, I think it's more about him not wanting to get me up there and start fretting about ruining some young person's life."

Miles away, Sally rolled her eyes. _"Sounds like you. Just remember that these people have cost you your livelihood, your home, and what you planned to leave to Joseph as an inheritance."_

"You been to legal school? You're sounding just like him now." Sally scoffed.

"_Just passing a message from Aaron."_

"Oh, on a happier, non-lawsuit, non-people-hating note, I've been invited to attend the Marine Ball."

"_Please tell me you're going to go!" Sally squealed excitedly. "I've heard of it, and saw some pictures from when Aaron's friends nephew went."_

"I'm going, even though I have to wear a dress."

"_Oh, my God! Sam Walking Tall in a _dress_? You _have_ to send me pictures." A pause, in which Sam almost retorted with something smart, "Who are you going with? That Gibbs guy? I'll bet he's hot in uniform."_

"I don't know, I've never seen him in it, but if he looks as good in his uniform as he does in jeans and a flannel shirt, I'll be there strictly for crowd control." Sam was laughing.

"_And that is why a farmers' daughter marries a farmer." Sally sighed. "Those ratty jeans and worn, soft, comfortable, flannel shirts."_

"Should I leave you and your day-dream alone?"

"_Oh, hush."_

"I've got it narrowed down to three dresses that I like, but I'm not sure about the colors."

"_What ones do you have in mind?"_

"I've found that I look really good in this one color called periwinkle, and the other colors are lavender, red, and a deep royal blue."

"_I don't like you in red. So let's ditch that one. And lavender, really? What happened to my Sam who used words like "light purple"?"_

"She got yanked off the farm. So ok, red is out. I'm guessing you're saying no to the light purple?"

"_No, it can stay, but the dark blue has got to go."_

"I kind of liked that one."

"_No, unless you've gotten your color back, you look all washed out."_

"Thanks, anemia."

"_Yeah, no kidding."_

"So what color? The lavender or periwinkle?"

"_I vote periwinkle. Mostly because I have no idea of what it is, and I want to see it."_

"Oh, that's a good reason." Sam rolled her eyes. "It's the same color as I wore in that interview."

"_Then definitely that color. You looked good. And I mean _good."_ Sally laughed. "I picked Aaron's jaw up off the floor when he saw you."_

"You are so full of it."

"_Seriously, wear the periwinkle. Do some other color another time. But that color? Oh, girl!"_

"You did not just say that." The ladies continued chatting and teasing until Sally had to go for chores and Sam headed down to the basement to see what she could do. Sitting around was really getting to her, and sanding was the only thing she could do to keep her upper body working. And it was getting boring in the worst way.

######################################################

Three days later, Abby and Sam had her dress and were headed to one of Abby's friends to have the gown fitted. Abby helped her find shoes and to Gibbs amusement, helped Sam learn to walk in the contraptions in the kitchen.

"Do I really have to wear shoes like this?"

"You've got two weeks, Sam, you can do it." Abby cheered her on as the older woman took another trip across the room. "Ok, you're still walking like you're in your shit kickers." Sam rolled her eyes.

"These are elevated death-traps of torture. I'm doing good to just be on my feet and not my butt."

Gibbs cleared his throat and headed downstairs. To let loose with the laugh he was holding back was sure to be hazardous to his health. And Sam didn't need to be any more nervous than she already was.

The week before the ball, Sam was walking in the heels as if she'd been doing it for years. Apparently it helped to have coaching. To her horror, the lessons in waltzing began.

Tony was her dance partner, and he was amused yet patient as she learned the steps. Ziva was planning to help her with her hair, and they tried several styles before one was declared the winner. Feeling slightly better about the upcoming formal ball, Sam relaxed and was ready.


	62. Chapter 62

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar for being my amazing beta! Love you! Ptbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: Thanks also to Ziver69, she helped me think when I lost my mojo. Also, this story is AU and OOC, and this is a strange chapter, but it's all gonna be good. I promise.

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Gibbs growled impatiently and looked at his watch for the fourth time in the last five minutes. If she didn't hurry, they'd be late, and it wasn't right for the Director of NCIS and a former Marine to be late to the Marine Ball.

He took a deep breath, reminding himself that he'd already learned that she ran on "reservation time". To Sam, not showing up twenty minutes late was being early. For him, on time meant being twenty minutes early. He cracked his neck. _Culture clash. Wonder if this is what everyone talks about?_

He saw Ziva up at the top of the stairs, and pointed to his watch, his eyebrow cocked. His message was clear. _Hurry up._ His youngest agent nodded and disappeared for a moment.

"He is very handsome in his uniform, Sam." Ziva's eyes danced.

"Really? Ellis was a good looking man, and in uniform, he was, he'd kill me for saying this, but he was gorgeous." Sam grinned, and then drew in a steadying breath. "Do I look ok?"

"You look wonderful. Believe me." The two giggled, and then laughed at themselves.

"Oh, stop laughing. Every woman has the right to be girly every now and again." Sam smiled at her friend.

"I believe we lost our right." Ziva smiled as she spoke. "We are too, I think the word is, _butch_."

Gibbs heard the laughter and rolled his eyes. Something about formal dresses and dances did something to women's brains. There was no other explanation for it.

Sam appeared at the top of the stairs, and Gibbs felt himself staring. He tried to look away, to mask his interest, but he couldn't. Her dress was that shade of blue that he liked so much, and her hair was in a bun, but not drawn too tightly against her head.

The peacock feathers she'd been working with for the last two weeks hung from her ears in new holes gained from a shopping trip with Abby. He didn't like the little gold studs she'd worn at first, but these made the odd little dots worth it in his mind. He'd have never thought of feathers, silver, and silk working together in such a beautiful way.

Her neck was accented with a thin silver necklace that housed a copy of her earrings. He smiled, meeting her eyes. He'd been worried that Ziva would insist she wore makeup, but to his relief, her face remained untainted by the stuff. Abby had taken her to a ladies party one night, and she'd come home with a "makeover". Some women needed the stuff, others thought they did, and some were ruined by it. She was one of the latter.

Gibbs was pleased to see that she was wide awake, for she'd been so tired for the last couple of months. It had started soon after Joseph went back to school, and she'd gone to the Urgent Care one afternoon complaining of dizziness, fatigue, shortness of breath and her detail for the day was worried, as her already pale face had gone completely white.

The doctor had been quick to realize that an ulcer she'd had for some time had gotten significantly worse, which had caused her troubles with low iron to get worse until she couldn't push it aside any longer. She'd needed endoscopic surgery to correct it, as the ulcer was beyond what medications could deal with.

However, with the correction of the ulcer, daily antacids, and a different iron pill, she'd turned around quickly. Her skin tone had begun to improve, her energy level had allowed her to return to her former unstoppable whirlwind of activity, and her mood improved with the lack of pain. She'd never acted grumpy, but she'd often said she _felt_ irritable. The improvement was never more obvious than now.

She stopped before him, smiling up at him. "You look very nice."

"Same to you." Gibbs grinned and motioned toward the door. "Ready?"

"Lead the way."

############################################

Sam and Gibbs were among the first arrivals, and he introduced her to Secretary Jarvis. The man was charming, and Gibbs slid his arm around Sam's waist, making the other man smile as Sam rolled her eyes. Gibbs made the rounds, Sam at his side as he greeted his peers.

One man had Gibbs' gut twisting, and as the man approached, he felt the need to hold Sam tight, yet knew it would be the wrong move. They'd been chatting with a young couple, and the man hung around until they were free.

"Hau." He smiled, and Gibbs bit back a growl. (Hello for men)

"Han." Sam nodded to him. "Tanyan yahi." (Hello and welcome for women)

"Philamayaye." He switched to English for a moment. "You are Samantha Walking Tall, right?" She blushed. (Thank you)

"Han. Taku eniciyapi he?" (Yes. What is your name?)

"Charles Red Feather. Wiyuskinyan wanchinyanke." (Pleased to meet you)

"Master Sergeant Red Feather, I'd like to introduce you to NCIS Director Jethro Gibbs." The men shook hands, making no effort to hide their appraisal of the other. As she'd turned to answer a question from the young lady they'd just spoken with, she missed their budding rivalry.

More and more couples arrived, and Sam found comfort in the hand that Gibbs kept at the small of her back most of the time. They finally were ready to take their seats, and she thought it was just in time. Her feet were killing her.

Gibbs was glad to be sitting, as he'd not be watching every guy that walked past. He wasn't jealous, per se, but he didn't like the idea of Sam being fodder for some smarmy congressman. He nearly growled as he thought back to Sam's conversation with that Charles Hungry Snake guy. The man was a Master Sergeant, so he couldn't complain about that. The guy could be great, but a possessive streak rose in Gibbs, along with the nagging feeling that he really had no right to be possessive. More worrisome was the quick questioning thought of why he suddenly felt so…jealous? It wasn't like they were dating. Once again, he wished he understood the words they'd spoken. You'd think that if a guy was trying to steal somebody's date that he'd be a little more subtle about it. Maybe that was it. He felt left out.

Tossing his irritation into a mental closet, he focused on the group at the table, smiling and talking easily with their tablemates. Sam had sent him a couple of questioning looks, which he just shook his head to, letting her know everything was fine. When the music began, he rose, holding his hand out for Sam.

They took a trip over the floor, waltzing slowly. Gibbs smiled, and Sam started to relax again. Both found themselves lost in their thoughts as they traversed the floor. Sam thought back to Ellis, and how he would have loved coming to this and seeing it. He'd been invited once, but had refused since she wasn't able to join him. She'd often wondered if he regretted it. Or if he simply didn't know what he'd missed.

Gibbs, for his part, was torn with the thoughts and emotions he'd been dealing with the past few weeks, especially since her surgery. He wasn't sure if it was his protective streak working overtime, or if he was starting to see her in a new light as he learned to heal from his grief. There were so many variables to his thoughts, that he wished he could turn his brain off.

"Gonna have to thank DiNozzo for teaching you to dance."

"Don't forget Abby for teaching me to walk in these things." They continued dancing slowly for a few minutes before he drew her closer. Sam rested her head on his shoulder, not sure if she should or not. It was such an intimate gesture, and maybe he'd be upset. But something was different about him tonight. He wasn't the gruff man she'd come to know as a friend, and it threw her off kilter a bit.

"You look beautiful tonight." Being this close to her, he could smell the light spray of White Shoulders that Ziva had supplied her with. She blushed, especially at the light kiss pressed to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He felt her breath catch, and wondered if he'd end up with a hand-print for a reply. He wasn't sure if he should apologize, or what he'd have to say beyond, "sorry, just had to", and that was a horrible excuse, even to his own ears.

"Looking pretty good yourself." She knew it was a pathetic attempt at a compliment, but he'd caught her completely unprepared, and she wondered for a moment what he was thinking, but figured she'd better sort her own thoughts, first. Perhaps she'd ask him later, when they weren't in public.

"No, it's just a uniform." He shrugged. "Best uniform in the military." He smirked. "Got me in."

They chatted for another turn around the floor. By the time they had waltzed to three songs, they'd been around the floor five times, and Sam had admitted to regretting wearing heels, even if they were the accepted footwear of a fancy ball.

Once they were seated, Gibbs turned to her.

"You sure you're not hungry? Thirsty?"

"No, I'm fine, really." She rolled her eyes. "I'd be afraid to make a mess, and you know that try as I might, I can't eat without getting crumbs somewhere."

"Yeah, but you'd not be the only one. Besides, it's finger food."

"Still not eating." Gibbs chuckled.

############################################

Jethro had been called to talk with Secretary Jarvis and a senator, much to his annoyance. He looked over to his table, and didn't see Sam. He looked to the dance floor, and clenched his fist as he saw her dancing with _that_ guy. Master Sergeant Hungry Snake was becoming the bane of his evening. And what really irritated him, was that he wasn't sure exactly why.

She was laughing, and he felt his gut twist. He looked back to the men he conversed with. "I'm sorry, I missed that last bit."

"I was just telling Senator Terlecky about the changes you've made to the training manuals for FLETC."

"Oh, yes." Gibbs nodded, not feeling like discussing the damn manuals. That's what office hours were for. He coughed into his hand, wishing he could get out of this conversation.

Out on the floor, Sam was enjoying her conversation, but she was ready to have the safety of Gibbs back. But to tell Charles that would have been rude. The man was charming, but he was looking for something she'd never be. They spoke easily, English forgotten for the moment.

He told her of his plans to return to his home when his service was done, and she listened, smiling as he laid out his hopes for the future. In them, he detailed his desire for having someone to care for, someone who he could spoil with gifts and vacations, and worst of all, someone who was willing to be something of a housekeeper who shared his last name.

So she smiled and nodded, pretending to agree with his sentiments. However, she couldn't think of a more terrifying future than to be the stay at home with nothing to do wife of a retired Marine. She told him of the farm she and her husband had worked, and how much she'd loved it. He countered with telling her that he'd never expect her to work that hard. She wondered if she'd sold the farm and traveled with Ellis from base to base if his offer would be appealing. She guessed that yes, it would be.

Sam knew she'd want nothing more from him than friendship, and tried to convey that to him as nicely as she could. His smile simply grew, and she recognized what Abby called the "cat with something to chase" look.

###############################################

Once he was able to return to her side, Gibbs became attentive, and Sam decided to ease his mind.

"I came with you, I'm leaving with you, and while I have his number, I'm not intending to call him."

"Looked like you were having a good time."

"We were." She smiled. "But he wants something different out of life. He's a nice man, just not nice for me."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"No, you're not." Sam rolled her eyes. "If you're going to try that line, don't look like the cat in the canary cage next time." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Besides, you don't hide jealousy well."

"Caught, huh?"

"Hard to miss."

"Come on, let's take one more turn before we go." She stood and took his hand, letting him hold her close as they whirled around the floor once again.

"I know I shouldn't ask this, but…" Sam stopped him from speaking.

"Then don't." She met his eyes. "Besides, now isn't a good time for anything. I'm rebuilding my life, court cases are going to be taking up all of my time, and I don't know what I want for my own future."

He nodded. "You're still under my protection, anyway."

"Yes, and if I'm not mistaken, you like red heads. Your fascination tonight is nothing more than marking territory." She chuckled, her head resting on his shoulder. She didn't see his mouth draw into a straight line as he mentally disagreed with her.

Later that night, as he lay under his boat trying to sleep, he thought of ways to show Sam what he was beginning to feel for her. She was more than just a friend. She wasn't a woman he loved exactly, but she was his best friend. He didn't doubt that he loved her as a friend. He knew that with certainty. What he wasn't certain of was the other emotions and thoughts that jabbed at him from time to time.

Was he merely replacing his grief with her, or was he actually beginning to heal? If that was the case, was he really ready to move on, or was he feeling like this only because she was showing him how to heal? She was completely different from what he'd found attractive before, but several times, he'd caught her in unguarded moments, and she'd had a natural beauty that shot through his core. With a sigh, he turned onto his side, realizing he had no idea how to attract a woman who seemed to be totally uninterested. The idea that maybe he didn't want to had him back up and sanding.


	63. Chapter 63

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger for being my amazing beta! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: I was going to write another diatribe against flaming, but decided that it would give flamers too much power. So instead, I'm going to thank everyone who has read, enjoyed, reviewed, or PM'd in regards to this story. I'm not going to stop writing, and I encourage everyone who gets flamed to stand up for themselves in private (pm's are wonderful…we can be mean right back), and to keep writing!

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Christopher Southerland squeezed Sam's elbow. When she looked up, he nodded toward the currently closed door of the courtroom.

"You ready?"

"No." Sam shuddered slightly. "Do you think it's too late to go back to the farm?"

"Way too late." He smiled gently. "Do you really want to trade all of that stress and fear for being safe in here?"

"Not really." She hedged a bit. "But it sure sounds nice. At least I know what will happen there."

"Oh? What will happen?"

"You don't want to know. All of this crap happened without me speaking up and calling them out."

"Ah. Yes. Well, no going back, then."

Sam took her seat at the table by Christopher's side. She still wasn't exactly sure of why she had to be here and not in the seats behind, but she trusted the man who was her voice. He arranged papers and documents to have them handy, and she sat and grew more nervous until the famous words of "All rise!" rang through the courtroom.

Sam rubbed her hands nervously on her pant legs as she watched Phyllis McKorman take the stand. She tried not to stare daggers at the woman, but found it nearly beyond her ability. Not only had her stupidity caused all sorts of problems, but she found herself out west once again, as Phyllis' trial was being held in the capitol of her former home state.

She found it ironic that they were sitting in a courtroom to battle over her name when the town had been branded for the assassinated president, Abraham Lincoln. The name of the city had been changed from Lancaster to Lincoln in an attempt to derail the town from becoming the capitol. The plot obviously didn't work, as the move of the capitol from Omaha to Lincoln had taken place.

With a mental shake to clear her head, Sam hoped the same luck would hold true for her today, and that her name would be cleared. She didn't even care so much about any money that Christopher seemed so sure would be won. The clearing of her name was, to her, the most important thing.

Chris and Sam listened as the defense began their feeble attempt at a proving Sam's instigation of Phyllis' actions. Sam's eyes burned with unshed tears as she listened to new lies and twisted words that only a lawyer could get away with. A glance to her protection detail let her know the woman was feeling as much anger as she was.

The attorneys that made up Phyllis' defense team claimed that the café owner had spoken from former experience with the goat farmer. After all, she'd been a high school drop-out, was pregnant when she married, and it was a known fact that many of the children who went to her farm ended up addicted to drugs. Of course, they ignored the fact that Phyllis' life was a mirror of her own. They also ignored the fact that the drug ring had been busted, and that Samantha Walking Tall had been cleared of all charges.

Southerland patted his clients arm as he leaned over and reminded her that their opposition was just hanging itself further. They were trying to turn the focus away from Phyllis, but he could easily bring it back. After all, he'd brought witnesses.

Once the defense relinquished the floor to Southerland and his team, the tide turned quickly. Sam had already shared all of that information with them in a very thorough yet embarrassing interview several weeks before. Three young paralegals had been working quickly, and after a brief recess, Christopher leveled Phyllis' defense with the facts of her own life.

She too, had dropped out of high school. She had not only been pregnant, but had married a recently divorced man. A man who divorced due to the affair he'd had with the young woman. Her father had purchased the café for her, in the hopes of her turning her life around. To Phyllis' horror, the man was ashamed of her recent acts, and when interviewed, had answered honestly and eloquently. In fifteen minutes out of their lunch hour, Southerland's team had the entire defense dismantled.

Chris smiled as he accepted the sandwich handed to him. In an attempt to redirect blame, Phyllis had dug herself a deeper hole. Sam was a wreck, and he was glad that she had been willing to call Abby and get a "pep talk" from the bouncy woman. His only regret was that Gibbs was in meetings and wasn't reachable. However, whatever Abby had said had Sam smiling and seeming more confident. Her detail, too, had provided some sort of support that he had completely missed. The woman spoke very little, moved away from Sam's side even less, and was nearly invisible in the courtroom.

The afternoon flew by with testimonies and evidence rather than hearsay and facts that no longer mattered. Phyllis had slid down in her seat almost comically when her own past had been brought up, and more than once, her lawyer had tried the good old "objection". The judge finally asked why _her_ past indiscretions should be silenced when she was the one on trial, and not Samantha Walking Tall, yet they'd dragged her through the legal mud. Chris had bit back a smirk at that question.

Harrison Jones had offered to testify when Southerland had called asking for permission to use a segment of the reporters' interview with Mrs. Walking Tall. He'd been more than happy to testify to the rumors he heard flying in the café, and to the viciousness of Phyllis' words as she decried Sam, even after the truth started to come out. In his view, Phyllis was, without a doubt, the cause of the last attacks on Sam. He'd heard her taking credit for things, at least, and as he'd been interviewing others at the time, he had legally gained proof of her plots. The judge allowed them, as Phyllis had known the reporters were taping people. She should have watched her mouth.

Five o'clock came, and Judge Watkins called a recess until 9 the next morning. Sam looked over to Chris, near panic written on her face. He patted her hand.

"Don't worry about it. The jury will have time to think over all they've heard today, and tomorrow, after our closing statements, they'll be sent to make their decision."

They stood and turned. Sam's face lit up when she realized Sally and Aaron were sitting in the back. The women waved to one another, anxious to be able to finally talk face to face after such a long separation.

"I recognize them." Chris smiled. "They're Aaron and Sally, right?"

"Yes." Sam fairly bounced on the balls of her feet. "They thought they may have made it, but weren't sure. I'm so glad they got here!"

The ladies exchanged hugs and a kiss to the cheeks. Sam shook Aaron's hand before he laughed and pulled her close for his own hug.

"I'm so glad to see you guys!" And with that, Sam and Sally were off and running with fast flying words and laughter at Phyllis' obvious shame as the afternoon wore on. Southerland called a temporary halt to the jubilation.

"Until we're out of the courthouse, I can't have you two discussing this, even if your view of Phyllis from the back row was rather amusing." He smiled as he spoke. "I've often wondered what it looked like from the back when a defendant started to slide beneath the table."

########################

The quiet they'd enjoyed ended as soon as they stepped into the busy hall. Reporters and photographers stood at the ready, anxious to get any tidbit they could. Sam followed the instructions he'd given her before they'd even arrived that morning. She was to walk with her head held high, not to make eye contact unless she wanted to, and let him answer all of the questions.

It amazed her how hard it was to keep her head up and not try to hide as cameras flashed and reporters shouted questions. They continued moving through the crowd, nearly being fully trapped more than once. Sam gasped and tried to not get lost in the sudden memory of pain. The accidental touch of the end of a long microphone arm had hit just the right spot.

Sally had seen her eyes glaze over for that quick second before Sam began fighting off the panic, and whispered to Southerland that they needed to get outside yesterday. With a glance to his client, he agreed and demanded that they be allowed to pass.

Once out of the courthouse and in their rented car, Sally began to talk Sam down. Southerland listened in the front passenger seat as Sam began to cry, letting go once again of the pain that had plagued her in secret for so long. Once again, he was struck by how little good it seemed to do to get settlements for those who had been hurt. Yes, it provided for their futures and cleared their names, yet there was so much left undone.

#################################

Dinner was pizza, a rare treat for the three who had lived on the plains for so long. Their closest pizzeria had been in the town beyond their own, which meant they'd needed to drive over an hour and a half if they wanted it. Aaron ordered extra, and when asked why, he stated that breakfast was served, and any leftovers would be good for the trip home. Sally shook her head.

"I'll bet Joseph's not even that bad with pizza."

"Perhaps not with pizza, but let me tell you, he is _worse_ with sweet and sour chicken."

The three friends visited until it was time for Sally and Aaron to find a room for themselves.

"I thought you got us a room already." Sally was confused.

"I asked if we were staying for sure. You didn't answer."

"Why would I have packed a bag if we weren't staying?"

"I don't know." He held up his hands. "I'll go see if they have another room."

"I'll go with you." Sam laughed. "We'll just share. It'll be cheaper for all of us, and we can keep talking."

"Fine, but you girls have got to sleep at some point tonight." He ducked as a pillow sped toward his head. "I'm just sayin'." He held his hands up. "Ya not been quiet for hours."

"Hey, Aaron?"

"What?" He looked at Sam warily.

"Do you know how I can prove there will be no men or women in heaven?"

"No." He was almost afraid of her answer.

"Well, in one part of the Bible, it says that there will be silence for the space of a half an hour." She shrugged. "That means no women." He snorted. "And somewhere else, it talks about heaven being peaceful. That takes care of the men. The angels know you men won't be peaceful without having us women to gripe about." Sally flopped back on the bed, laughing.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get your shoes, Angel."

"Oh, I'm an angel now?"

"Yep, you've been up in the air harping about Phyllis half the night." He failed to dodge the slipper his wife pitched.

#############################################

Court was short the next day. The two opposing attorney's made their final statements, and the jury was taken to deliberate. Christopher treated Sam and her friends to lunch out at a restaurant that they'd never even considered entering before. He'd asked a colleague where the best place to celebrate was, and he was told of the Venue, which is where they headed.

"I'm afraid to sit." Aaron stage whispered. "I'm not even sure I can afford to look at the menu." Sam laughed.

"I agree, but let's not look like the podunks we are." Sally chuckled as her friend spoke. "Gibbs told me something, and I think it's appropriate."

"Yeah?" Sally was all ears. "What was that?"

"We're all made out of the same stuff. Dirt. It just so happens that we work in it a little more."

"I like that guy." Aaron chuckled.

###################

Phyllis was stunned as the verdict came back. She'd tried every trick her lawyer had presented, and still she'd lost. What was worse, was that the judge was going to take a brief recess before sentencing her. He'd said they'd reconvene in a half an hour, and that seemed too short of a time on one hand, and too long of a time on the other.

When the thirty minutes were up, she rose and listened to the punishment dealt to her. Her mouth went dry, and she regretted ever saying a single word to anyone about Sam. She'd been easy picking at the time, but the future price was more than she'd bargained for.

"For the counts of slander, I award Mrs. Samantha Walking Tall one thousand dollars for each count." That wasn't so bad. There were only twenty counts. Twenty thousand, but a mortgage on the house would solve that, and give her years to pay off her debt.

"For the counts of conspiracy to commit a crime, I award Mrs. Samantha Walking Tall ten thousand dollars for each count." Phyllis reeled. There were eight of those. She'd admitted to having a hand in every attack on Samantha, with the exception of the one where the person stabbed her.

"For pain and suffering at the hands of the accused and convicted, I award Mrs. Samantha Walking Tall fifty thousand dollars for continuing mental care, which she has already begun receiving. I arrived at this amount by multiplying the cost of her visits to the number of visits she will need over the next five years as she learns to live a different life than she had enjoyed thus far." He put down his paper.

"I would like to address the defendant directly now." Phyllis stood when her lawyer motioned with his head. "I am disappointed at the lengths you went to, trying to prove your innocence." Phyllis nodded. "You have shown me that you are not only unrepentant, but willful in your belief in your right to treat people like this." His eyes hardened.

"Your words and actions have cost an innocent woman her livelihood, her home, and her safety. I would be remiss in not punishing you for this." Phyllis froze. Just when she thought it couldn't get any worse…

"I am sentencing you to six weeks detention in Lancaster County Detention Hall." Aaron and Sally bit back whoops of joy. "Upon your release, you will be on probation for the period of two years, during which time you will perform community service for 20 hours each week. Failure to do so will result in further incarceration."

He stared at the woman before him, daring her to challenge him. She finally lowered her head, her argument trapped firmly behind her lips.

"This is a state that treasures its agriculture and small community values." He pounded his gavel.

Sam sighed in relief. That meant it was all over. With Phyllis, anyway. The court dates for the people who had pled guilty would begin in a few days, but Sam's presence wasn't required.

Aaron took the girls and Sam's "shadow" to dinner. The woman had been discrete, almost to the point of not being noticed most of the time. In fact, if she'd not answered a question for Sam, Aaron would have thought she didn't speak at all.

The woman was watchful, almost to the point of absurdity, but her dark and fearless eyes made him feel confident in his friends safety. He'd ask Sam later if this Ziva David was one of the people she'd spent that life-changing blizzard with.


	64. Chapter 64

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks, Headbanger Rockstar, for being my AMAZING beta! Love you! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

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Sam and her friends were back at their hotel, ready to have a quiet evening of a movie, laughter, a bottle of wine to celebrate with, and yawns hidden behind new and no longer funny jokes that had them rolling. Ziva heard more farm humor than she'd heard before, and struggled to see the humor in the things that had her three companions laughing. Her failure to laugh simply seemed to cause more laughter. What made it worse, was when Sam tried to explain. Her explanation ended with a snort, which caused louder and longer peals of laughter.

Miles away, Phyllis was experiencing something far different. Her children had been given to her father for the six weeks she would be incarcerated, and the two youngest were pre-teens who refused to say good-bye to her. Their refusal had nothing to do with their disapproval of her actions, but from their anger at how their friends would react.

The slight from her daughters and her father's obvious thankfulness that she was "paying for her crimes" had her in a mood more foul than the one she'd been in at the end of the trial. When the guard at her new "home" called her a sissy for not wanting to sit on a slightly dirty bench, she lashed out verbally with insults.

"You sure you wanna be saying those things?" The guard narrowed his eyes.

"I can say whatever I want to."

"Not here, you can't." He looked at her name. "And if I'm correct, that's why you're here."

"Shut up." The guard smirked. This woman was in for trouble. That much was sure, and she was only here for six weeks. And they'd be the hardest six weeks of this fool's life.

"Sit, prisoner." His voice became iron. "You just used up your one chance at politeness."

###############################

Early the next morning, Sam and company headed for an inexpensive diner for breakfast. Aaron insisted on buying for everyone, and with a pasted on smile, Christopher agreed to what looked like somewhere he would have eaten when he was starving in school. However, the smells were heavenly. He stepped from the car, and found himself salivating. Ziva prepared herself for another taste of Americana, which she'd need to work out an extra few hours to burn off.

"So, Sam," Aaron cleared his throat. "Not to bring up business, but we need to talk business."

"And today has been so pleasant."

"Yeah, I know." He shifted and glanced toward Christopher, who was wondering if he'd need to protect his client from her friends, as well. "The thing is, Sally and I want to know if you're interested in moving back to the farm after all of this settles down." He held up his hands. "We're gonna buy it, either way, but I need to know if you plan on buying it back."

"No, I don't think I can live out on the plains anymore." The table fell silent as their meals arrived. "There's been too much to happen, and I don't think I'd ever feel safe." She shrugged. "Besides, while you guys are wonderful, you're the only friends I have within hours of the farm."

"Can't do it anymore?"

"I suppose I could, but I don't want to." She looked up at Sally, tears in her eyes. "I loved having you so close, but I've gotten used to people again."

"We understand, Sam." Sally patted her hand. "We just wanted to make sure you didn't want to move back."

"I won't." Sam swallowed hard. "Can I ask why?" Aaron blushed.

"Your house is nicer than ours, and the barn is bigger. We were thinking that since we'll own both, that we may move."

"Keep your house for workers?"

"Maybe." Aaron nodded. "We were thinking that maybe we'd take on a couple of those kids from the college who are always out doing work studies."

"Get their full work study done at one place? Most of those kids would jump at that!"

"That's kinda what we were thinking. They'll just be summer help, but you know." He shrugged.

"Yep, you get free help, and they get their college credit. Can't beat it."

Conversation returned to more neutral and comical things as they enjoyed their meal and the last hour they'd share for a while. They went over the highlights of the case, laughing once again at how Phyllis was nearly hiding by the end of the trial.

"What I can't figure out is why her lawyer didn't try to defend her."

"Well, he did, he just did a crappy job of it." Southerland chuckled as he listened to the friends roast Sam's opposition.

"We should get going." Sam finally called a halt to the frivolity. "I don't want to, but I don't want to miss our flight, either."

Sally was in tears by the time the ladies hugged, and Aaron joined Sam in refusing to let them fall. When Sally sniffled again, Sam lost her battle with her tears, and the two women cried, seeming to realize for really the first time that this could be goodbye. It would be difficult to get together in the future, and with Sam not knowing what was happening in the future, reality was not easy to face.

#####################################

Phyllis ranted as she paced in the small room where she was to have her counciling session. Unknown to her, she was being observed through the mirror as her new therapist watched.

"I don't need this." She grumbled as she stomped from one end of the room to the other. "Crazy people go to therapists. Not sane people like me." She scoffed and sat, only to stand right back up.

"I got screwed over by my lawyer. I never should have listened to him. Never should have gone to him in the first place." Another scoff. "He's probably in on the whole thing with _her_. It wouldn't surprise me to find out that I've been duped. Damn bitch. She's got tentacles everywhere." She rearranged the chairs at the table, making sure they were directly across from one another.

"Probably because of that government big-wig she's screwing. Nobody wants to tell it like it is." She began to speak louder and faster, ranting on and on about everything the therapist already knew to be false. The woman's paranoia of Sam and the supposed resources at her fingertips bordered on amusing, and were definitely worrisome.

When her rant moved on to her ungrateful children, Jon rolled his eyes. If he believed half of what she said, he'd think her children were just short of vampiric. And as for her father, the man would have to have been an amoral mess of a human to do half of what she accused him of. He doubted Social Services would have been comfortable with placing the girls with him were that the case.

He glanced down at the file in his hands to recheck on who her nemesis' "boy-toy" was, and nearly choked. The man Phyllis thought was Samantha Walking Tall's boyfriend was none other than the Director of NCIS. If he wasn't already convinced Phyllis was out of control, this sealed his notion.

Phyllis looked up when the door opened. She smiled pleasantly at the man who entered. He smiled back, hoping her good mood and non-violent peace would last.

"Good afternoon, Phyllis." He set his folder down, motioning for her to sit. "I assume you know why we're here?" She rolled her eyes.

"Yes. I told that guard just what I thought."

"I do believe there is something else that brought us here."

"Oh, seriously? So I slapped her."

"You broke her nose."

"She called me a criminal." Jon fought the urge to groan. He needed more coffee.

"I do believe you have been sentenced to a penal facility for crimes committed." Phyllis sat down, doing her best to get serious with him.

"I may have said some things that weren't nice, but words don't cause harm."

"Is that why you hit that guard last night? Because words don't matter?"

"That is my reputation she was putting dirt all over."

"Ok, so explain to me why it was ok for you to put dirt on Samantha Walking Tall's reputation."

With an angry roar, Phyllis was up and ranting. He simply made notes as she paced and screamed. Jon figured he had her for a solid six weeks, during which he could build a case for further in-hospital psychiatric care. Thankfully the jail video-taped everything, and just as with all new prisoners, Phyllis had signed forms that any obtained information could be used.

#################################

The plane landed, and Sam breathed a sigh of relief. She was no longer terrified of the oversized tin-cans, but she was no fan of them, either. Her next court date was just over the border in Virginia, close to Gibbs' house, and required no flying. She hoped it was a pleasant portend for the future.

It seemed forever for the plane to stop moving, and even longer for them to be able to get off. Ziva had her remain seated until everyone was off, so there was no push or additional risk to safety.

"I am so glad to be home." Sam yawned as she stretched upon standing. "It was nice to visit there, but it's wonderful to be back home."

"I did not think I would ever hear you call a city home."

"Yeah, still not sure how it happened." Sam's smile was a little lopsided. "Not totally sold on it, but it's getting more comfortable by the day." Ziva dialed her phone while Sam spoke.

"Gibbs, we have landed, and are ready to disembark." She listened for a moment, nodding.

"What did he say?" Christopher shook Sam's hand and excused himself to be on his way. "Have a good day, Chris, and thanks again."

"No problem." He smiled. "I'll see you in two weeks for the next trial."

"How many more months of this is there?"

"I'd love to lie, but we're probably really looking to be having a trial or two a month for the next year or so, unless I can get things moving faster."

"Any more settlement offers?"

"None that are acceptable." She nodded and turned to Ziva.

"Gibbs is waiting for us by the security gate."

"Oh, good." The ladies walked quickly down the terminal until they reached the gate.

There stood Gibbs with his detail. His smile grew the closer they got. He greeted Ziva with a quick hug and a report of how the trip was, and then turned his attention to Sam.

"How are you?"

"Good. Glad I'm home." She leaned into the tight hug he offered. Her arms held him as tightly, and she closed her eyes at the now-familiar and comfortable smell of Old Spice and oak. He released her with a quick kiss to her hair.

"Come on, Abby and Tony have some lunch and a movie waiting for us."

"Ugh, more sitting." Sam playfully rubbed at her behind.

"Yeah, but you can always go down and work on the boat."

"Nice."

"Wait." Ziva fell into step beside Sam. "Gibbs lets you work on his boat?"

"I did all of the woodworking on the farm." She shrugged. "So why wouldn't he?"

"Because he never lets anyone touch his boat."

"That's not true." Gibbs chimed in. "Abby broke a rib of it once, remember?"


	65. Chapter 65

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks, Headbanger, for being my amazing beta! Love you! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: Pure fluff commencing with very little seriousness. The "10 Commandments" within are manufactured from my own twisted brain. Heeheehee

################################################

The "party" at Gibbs' house started off with an excited squeal from Abby almost as soon as Sam was through the door. There were balloons and streamers up, the colors completely strange. She greeted everyone before looking, and when she did, she burst out laughing, especially at the paperboard sign that had been hung above the television.

It was of a house, and the word "truth" had been written in large, black letters on its yellow side. The part that had Sam laughing and Gibbs shaking his head were the legs covered with green striped stockings and the infamous black shoes of the Wicked Witch of the West.

Boxes of pizza, wings, cheese bread and a large antipasto salad littered Gibbs table along with bottles of soda pop and a case of beer. Paper plates with the squished witch waited to be filled, and Sam was shown to the front of the line as she was informed that no one else would eat until she did.

"Come on, guys, just eat. I'm too excited to really eat."

"Better grab something." Tim handed her a plate. "It's some sort of social law, according to Abby, and we're not about to break it. So you better eat before Tony starts to gnaw on the furniture."

"Hey!" The man in question delivered a healthy head-slap.

"Just sayin'." Tim grinned at him. "I've had to listen to you growling all day. Stomach and…" Another head-slap had him breaking off in laughter.

"Fine, I'll grab something." Sam snatched a slice of the top pie, a wing, and a bit of the salad.

"Thought you weren't hungry?" Tony grabbed his gut after she playfully hit it.

"One day you'll learn, DiNozzo."

"Maybe, Boss, I'm tryin'."

"Yeah, my patience." Abby stuck out her tongue, and he returned the favor.

"Lunch, children." Ziva stepped in front of the squabbling pair. "I for one, am very hungry. Breakfast was, shall we say, delicious yet frightening."

"More of the High Plains Cardiac?"

"An entirely new version with more butter and fewer beans. Yes." Gibbs chuckled.

"Hey, that's good food!" Sam laughed from where she sat. "Everyone dies from something, may as well enjoy the ride."

"I would have to disagree with you, my dear." Ducky eyed the meal with something akin to disgust. "The secret to a long life is paved with good intentions, actions, and dietary habits."

"Oh!" She winked at Gibbs. "So that's why I know a lot more old drunks than old doctors." Conversation came to a halt for a moment, no one sure if she was serious or joking.

"They may be alive, my girl, but just as a pickle resides in a jar, so does the drunkard. A cucumber lives free."

"Yeah, until it gets stuck in a veggie drawer." Her laughter started the verbal food fight with everyone making strange analogies regarding people and food.

"No more pickle jokes." Gibbs grumbled nearly an hour later.

"They're creative." Sam's eyebrows raised. "Never thought they'd be able to take it that far."

"They can take anything that far."

################################

The movie was started three times before everyone finally stopped running for the restroom or drink refills or another slice of pizza.

"You done?" Gibbs glared from person to person. Several heads nodded, trying to not laugh.

Moments later, the Blues Brothers began their journey from one bar to another on their mission from God. Sam had never seen the movie, and she found some of the cinematic masterpiece boggling, some of it hilarious, and most of it completely and totally irreverent. She loved it.

By the time the Brothers were destroying the mall, she'd nearly spit her soda twice, had asked to have it rewound to hear a line six times, and had asked Tony so many questions regarding the trivia, that the group knew they'd found her favorite movie.

Tony was forever amazed that Sam had lived so long without a television, and to him, she was an empty slate of unadulterated movie-watching enjoyment. He happily offered to plug in a second movie, but she declined, stating that if they wanted to watch, they could, but she really needed to call Joseph. The team took that as their cue to leave, cleaning up the decorations quickly as she headed upstairs. To their amusement, Gibbs wanted the large picture of the house on the witch to remain where it was.

"Just for a day or so." He shrugged. "She likes it, and I'll bet she has a time of come down after this, just like we do after a big case." Abby bounced on her toes as he spoke, her eyes aglow. "Maybe it'll help."

"Awesome!" With a thumbs up and a tug to Tony's arm, she and her buddy left, leaving Gibbs to wonder if Sam was going to get her wish of his two most excitable "kids" getting together. With a shudder, he got a mental picture of a movie-quoting blonde haired little girl talking a mile a minute as she begged for pig-tails. Then he smirked. That could be fun.

###################################

_I saw it on the news, An' Sam! It's great!_

"I know!" Sam bopped happily for a moment. "I'm so glad she's in jail, even if it's for a short time."

_With any luck, she'll start giving them crap, and will go from jail to a mental ward where she belongs._

"I think she's smarter than to do that, and besides, I'd hate to stick her with anyone who had a real problem. I think she's just a spoiled brat, and jail may teach her a lesson."

_Maybe. I doubt it. Hey, why didn't her lawyer have an actual defense for her? That was crazy?_

"I really think he bought her crap."

_You have _got_ to be kidding me._

"No, I'm serious. He seemed honestly surprised that we had proof for my innocence. I really think he was intending to show that she wasn't guilty of saying anything untrue."

_Wow. I'm a vet student, and even I know better than that._

"Yeah. But you're smart. He's, well, not so much." Joseph laughed.

_So what now?_

"Now? I wait for the next court date. Now that one's over, and I kind of know what to expect, they're less frightening. That, and I need to make an appointment with my counselor, simply because I want to say some really mean things, and I know that I can do that in the safety of her office."

_You're going to counseling?_

"Have for a couple of months now." She could practically hear Joseph freaking out. "It really helps, Joseph. Gives me someone to talk to who won't judge, won't…"

_I know, An' Sam, I'm sorry I made that crack earlier about Phyllis landing in a mental ward._

"Don't worry about it. It's a phrase so many of us use when we're mad at someone, and while it's not nice, it's a habit. I know you didn't mean anything by it." Sam smiled. "Besides, I'm willingly getting help for my panic attacks and depression, and it's helping me. Everyone who goes for the help is brave in their own way."

_Which makes the crack worse._

"True. So just try to find other ways to express your wish for her to disappear forever." The two grinned, imagining all sorts of things. "Besides, a mental hospital isn't a good place for that, anyway. People go to those hospitals for healing, not imprisonment."

_Can I still imagine her in a white coat, frothing at the mouth, and banging her head on a wall?_

"Joseph Ellis Yellow Hand!"

_I was just asking._

"Ask something else."

_Ok, how's Uncle Gibbs?_

"He seems to be fine. The whole team was here when we got home."

_The joys of Saturdays, huh?_

"No kidding. Oh! We watched this movie, the Blues Brothers, you have got to see it."

_Yeah, I did, in the 8__th__ grade. Who got you to watch it?_

"Tony."

_Give that man a cookie._

They went on to discuss his classes, the girl he'd taken out for lunch, and the class he would be attending that night. To her amusement, he didn't like the girl and wouldn't be taking her out again simply because she'd tried to kiss him on the first date.

"That's usually a good thing, Joseph."

_Yeah, I can't explain it. I've kissed a girl on the first date, too, but this was way more of a, I don't know, sleezy feeling kiss. I like kissing, don't get me wrong, but…_

"Do you know how wrong it is to hear you talk about all of this?" Joseph laughed.

_I'm just so used to telling you about everything. _

"I'm used to hearing it. Just don't call bragging and giving details once you have this dating thing all figured out, ok?" Joseph busted out laughing, and the conversation took another turn. An hour later, they got off the phone so he could go to his class, and she headed back downstairs.

Gibbs was in his basement, as usual. Sam poured herself a cup of coffee before heading down to join hm. She was feeling somewhat restless now, and sanding didn't really hold much appeal, but it sounded better than watching TV. He looked up as she came down.

"Abby forgot to give you a present before they left. It's over there on the bench."

"Oh, wow! Okay. Any idea why?"

Gibbs shrugged. "She's Abby?"

"It's a big box, was it heavy?"

"You're as bad as Tony. Just open it."

"Ok, Mr. Grumpy Pants."

"I'm not grumpy, just don't know. Open it."

Sam tore open the silver paper littered with tiny alien heads. The box was plain cardboard with a plain white sticker covering the origination of the present. When she asked Gibbs for his knife, he handed it over, asking her where hers was.

"I left it upstairs."

"Rule 9."

"I'm still at home, so technically, I've not gone anywhere." She grinned cheekily as she handed his knife back. "Besides. I break rule 13 every day right now." He grunted in response, pocketing his knife as he watched her peel the flaps back.

The first item out was a belt buckle with a goat inlaid in the silver. The second item was a coffee cup with a picture of her farm from the drive, with her house and barn barely visible in the distance. Even so, she knew exactly where the photo had been snapped. With tears in her eyes, she pulled out the next item.

It was a t-shirt, and she could see several beneath it. She dried her tears so she could read the large black print. Gibbs worried when she saw her close her eyes and hold the shirt close, shaking silently.

"You ok?" Sam nodded, handing over the shirt as she pulled another of a different color out.

He lifted it and read the words, a smile breaking out on his own face as he went down the list. With a look to her, he saw that she was reading it, her lips moving as she read silently over the words.

_The 10 commandments of Goatdom:_

_1. Thou shalt not eat the entire orchard in a single day._

_2. Thou shalt not knock down thy Herder for a banana peel._

_3. Thou shalt climb onto thy Herders car at every opportunity and leave thine hoofprints on it._

_4. Thou shalt not escape thy pen too often. Thy Herder has limited patience._

_5. Thou shalt only give birth in the middle of the night in the middle of winter in a snowstorm when thy Herder does not wish to be out of bed._

_6. Thou shalt be cute and loveable, making sure that thy Herder has at least one goat-hug per day._

_7. Thou shalt not be jealous of thy neighbor's treats._

_8. Thou shalt follow thy Herder home willingly when thou and thy Herd hast escaped._

_9. Thou shalt unashamedly steal coca-cola and mountain dew at every opportunity to make thy Herder laugh at thine caffeine-addled antics._

_10. Thou shalt not head-butt thy Herder, for thou art tender and tasty with mint jelly._

"Wonder where she got these?"

"No idea." Sam shook her head. "They're adorable, though."

"Sure are. What colors you got in that box?" Sam started pulling out the shirts.

"Green, blue, hot pink, never wearing that one, some shade of red, purple, black, you've got the gray, oh, there's a white on the bottom, and then the orange I've got."

"Only Abby."

"Wonder where she found those?"

"Knowing her, she had a friend make 'em."

"They're great." Sam laughed as she pulled one over the shirt she was wearing. "My size, too."

"Explains why she was rooting though the laundry."

"She didn't." Gibbs held up his hands as if to say 'no lie'.

"So, what do you want to do tonight?"

"I'd really like to go out somewhere." She made a face. "But I don't want to have to bother somebody to go with us, Mister Director."

"Sam, I was a Marine, was an NCIS agent for 20 years, and if I can't keep us safe for a walk or drive, I have no business being in the Director's chair."

"Then let me go ditch the other shirt, and I'm ready to go!"

"Where to?"

"Where do you want to go? And you've been here long enough to know some places. No making me choose."

"No fair!" Sam laughed. "That's been my saving grace whenever anyone wants to know where I want to go."

"I know." Gibbs smile was evil. "I'll get you to learn this place if it kills me."

"You, sir, are mean."

"Yep." He went back to sanding as Sam packed up her box. "Don't take too long, it'll be dark in about three hours."

"I'll be ready in five."

#############################################

The sun was setting as they finished their ice cream cones. Sam had decided on taking a walk, so they'd driven to Rock Creek Park where they strolled along the outer edge. An ice cream vendor caught Gibbs' eye, and the man not usually given to sweets admitted that along with a love of cheesecake and apple pie with syrup, he had a soft spot for pistachio ice cream.

"Always knew you were a nutty guy."

"Come by it honestly." He shrugged. "Second wife."

"Yep, nuts." They sat in silence for several more minutes before Sam stood. "Come on, let's walk."


	66. Chapter 66

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar for being my beta! Love you! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: On a serious note, I'd like to ask everyone who prays to please pray for justice in the Trayvon Martin case. This is, in my mind, a serious case of what this story is about. Prejudice, a crooked local government, and people too frightened to do anything to change it have been combined with a media frenzy that is just… horrific and disgusting. It is a gross miscarriage of justice, and please, please, please pray that his family finds the peace they deserve. And that Trayvon's accused murder is arrested and held accountable for his crime, or is proven innocent in a court of law. Yes, I realize it is "innocent until proven guilty", however in this case, with the witnesses and the intentional bungling of forensics and a failure to arrest on the part of the police department who did not follow proper investigative procedures, that the burden of proof now lies with his attacker, and the police department needs to make amends in whatever way it can.

##################################

It was Tuesday night, and Sam was more restless than she'd been on Saturday. She had sanded, put together a 500 piece puzzle, talked to Sally and Aaron about the pump in the well out at her old farm, and had run up and down the stairs so often that Gibbs was having a hard time with keeping track if she was coming or going during his short hours at home. Jethro was finally ready to put a stop to her pacing and restless behavior when she finally stopped and sighed heavily.

"Something on your mind?" Gibbs quirked an eyebrow.

"I have all this energy, and no way to deal with it." She started to pace the length of his basement. "I can't go out on walks without getting my own personal shadow to tag along. Not that I'm not grateful, but it's nerve wracking! And it's never-ending! I'm cooking enough in a single day that we're living off of leftovers all week."

"I'm not complaining."

"I know." This was as close to a whine as he'd ever heard from her. "I'm not saying you are." He nodded and waited. "I used to work out, and now I'm not. My muscles are disappearing from disuse, and I'm getting flat out fat and flabby." He bit back a smirk. Even with her decreased muscle, she could probably still take down most of the agents.

"What can I do?"

"I've seen commercials for gyms. Which is the best, and is there someone who can teach me how to use that crazy crap?" She looked so serious, and he had a hard time not laughing. Abby couldn't have said that last sentence any faster, not even after a few Caff-Pow's.

"You want to work out somewhere that you're not being guarded?"

"Yes." Sam rolled her eyes. "That would be heaven."

"Then go get some comfy clothes and I'll meet you by the front door in five."

"Where are we going?"

"I'll tell you when we get there." He chuckled as she huffed up the stairs. He knew she was pretending to be upset. However, he'd seen the relief in her eyes when he'd told her to meet him by the door. For a woman who'd always been so independent, giving up her freedom for so long had to be horrible.

Even as they drove, he refused to tell her where they were headed. When they pulled into the navy yard, she laughed.

"Well, you wanted to come somewhere that you didn't have to take your detail."

"True. You gonna teach me, or laugh at me?"

"Some of both, probably."

"At least you're honest."

"Of course. I am the Director of a federal agency, you know."

"And_that_is a voucher for honesty?" Gibbs tapped the back of her head rather than reply verbally. He hoped she didn't know that he did that, because in a verbal match, he'd lose.

They started their workout with Gibbs showing Sam how to stretch. He wasn't surprised to find that she'd traded a lot of her flexibility for the muscles she'd built over the years. He was surprised to find that stretching was a new concept for her.

"You never did this?"

"No." She looked at him like he'd gone silly. "You get up in the morning, get dressed, and head to the barn. Start with the light work first, and end with the hardest. You don't waste time "getting ready" to work. You just work."

"It's a wonder you didn't kill yourself." He shook his head as he led the way to the first machine. After explaining how to do it, he stepped back and let her start. Confident she could do it after a few repetitions he started his own workout beside her.

After a while, he moved them on, teaching her the second machine. They moved through the gym, doing most of the exercises. Conversation flowed easily, jokes and bad puns had one or the other laughing almost constantly.

"What are those for?" She pointed to helmets and gloves hanging on the wall.

"Sparring."

"Sparring?"

"Hand fighting. Self-defense." He watched her for a moment. "You want to learn?"

"Yeah. Can you teach me?"

"Taught agents for years. Believe me, after McGee, you'll be a piece of cake." He pulled down two helmets and put hers on her head, fastening it properly.

"Suddenly I feel like a small child."

"Won't say what you look like." He let out an oof as she batted at his stomach with the back of her hand. "Hey, no hitting. Not yet, anyway."

Once he had them both outfitted with the protective gear, he showed her how to enter the ring. He explained how the floor was padded, so a fall would still hurt, but wouldn't be as harsh as if she'd fallen on the unpadded floor. He remembered the tap-fight from the barn, and was curious to see just how much she knew.

"I know you know some, I want to find out how much. So don't hold back, ok? You can't hurt me."

"You sure?"

"Yep." He nodded.

They started slowly, Gibbs making her circle rather than stay stationary. The movement added a new element, and she held back her first few punches, afraid of hitting too hard. He landed a fairly solid punch, so she hit back a little harder. Before long, neither were pulling their punches to avoid causing too much pain.

Gibbs saw a few holes that she didn't protect, and she found one on him that Ziva had managed to utilize on several occasions. He knocked her to the ground once with a foot hooked behind her knee. She lay on the ground, breathing hard.

"Wait! We can use our feet?"

"Well, yeah. Anything to win." She smiled.

"Awesome. Can we try again?"

"You sure you want to? That shoulders looking pretty bruised."

"Are you kidding me? I've not gotten to do this much in months!"

"Alright." He helped her to her feet and raised his gloves. "Let's go."

They started to spar again, and this time, Sam added in her feet. Gibbs found several of his punches thrown off by a quick hit to his leg. She moved a little faster, her hits a little harder, so Gibbs sped up with her, hitting hard enough that he felt his own hand sting at one point. She just hit harder. Both were panting, sweat was dripping down their backs, and Gibbs was considering calling the match a draw.

He didn't get to make that declaration before he felt the ground disappear fractions of a second before he thumped down on it full force with Sam following not far behind. Damn. He'd have to learn that move.

One moment, he'd been standing with his feet apart, a hit aimed at Sam's head flying from his shoulder, and the next, he'd seen her leg flash forward and felt it catch just above his knee. As his fist met her face, he felt his leg collapse, followed quickly by his other. The sudden hit on the mat caused him to lose his breath, and it was with an amazed horror that he watched her follow him down.

She straddled his torso, her knees biting into his shoulders. He bucked beneath her, knocking her off as he flipped them. She was laughing as he caught his breath.

"How the hell did you get my second leg?"

"It's a goat trick."

"What?" He could barely understand her through her laughter. "What the hell?"

"Sometimes you get a buck that's just mean." She kept laughing, speaking as she gasped for air. "No matter how nice you try to be, he tries to kick your ass."

"Yeah, still no answers." By this time, he was chuckling, finding her laughter to be contagious.

"You gotta take down two of their legs at the same time to get them down so you can collar them."

"You took me down like a goat?"

"Yeah." She lost her words in peals of laughter and had to repeat them. "Just like the old goat you are!"

The laughter continued as they headed for the showers. Gibbs finished first and limped to the bench by the exit. When Sam came out, he felt immediate guilt at the swollen black eye that was growing by the second.

"I really got your eye." Sam actually giggled.

"Yeah, but it was worth it. I had so much fun."

"I know I'm not teaching you much self-defense. You can whoop me already."

"Yeah, but those spots where you kept hitting, and I couldn't stop you. Teach me that. And that…"

"No, way. I'll teach you to block, but anything else, forget it." He laughed as he stood, or attempted to.

"Oh, my God! Are you ok? I forgot about your knee!"

"Black eye, bad knee." Gibbs grinned. "I think we're even."

They made their way slowly down the hall, laughing at one another and the slow progress they were now forced to make. Both needed ice before they reached home, and with it being so late at night, they figured the bullpen would be empty. So with heavy breaths and groans at pain caused by shaking ribs, they rode to the main floor.

Tony looked up when the elevator dinged. It was nearly midnight, and he wasn't used to being interrupted as he worked on cold cases. Gibbs and Sam stepped out, and he was on his feet, worry creasing his brow.

"Boss? Are you two ok?" He rushed to them, pulling chairs out of a nearby cubicle for them to sit. "What happened? Where the hell's your detail? Should I call Ducky? Sam, are you ok? That's a really nasty bruise. Any double vision? Did you see who hit you?"

"Tony, we're fine." Gibbs leaned his head back, rolling his neck a bit.

"No, you're not. Maybe you're in shock. I should call Ducky." He pulled out his phone, only to find himself slapped on the back of the head.

"DiNozzo! We're fine!" Gibbs winced as he leaned back.

"Ok." Tony pronounced the word slowly. "So, do you mind telling me what happened? You look like you walked away from an accident, or really big man with big fists."

"Well, there were fists involved." Sam started to laugh. "But he wasn't really a big man. Not overly tall or anything."

"You're laughing? About being beaten up? That's it, I'm calling Ducky."

"We were sparring, DiNozzo. We did this."

"You beat the shit out of each other?" Twin affirmations sounded, and he stared at them. He earned a head-slap with a comment on needing to sell tickets the next time.

"Come on, we were gonna get some ice, and then head home. You can drive."

"Why can't your detail… Ooooh! You ditched your detail again, didn't you?" Tony scoffed. "Do you know how much danger you could…"

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs voice snapped. "We were coming here. Not like we were doing anything dangerous. You need sleep, my knees need a rest, and Sam refuses to drive in the city. So you're our detail tonight."

"And once we're home, young man," Sam's tone took on that of a frustrated mother, "You're going to get some sleep."

"I got cold cases…"

"And they'll not be hot by morning." Gibbs stood up. "Come on. Time to go home."

Tony held out his hand for the keys. "You guys really have fun doing that to one another?"

#########################################

The next morning Gibbs received a call from Ducky to come down to autopsy almost as soon as he'd entered his office. With a growl, the director fairly stomped down to see his friend. Ducky knew he had meetings all morning. Whatever the man needed could surely wait.

"What, Duck?" The Scotsman looked up as Gibbs blew through the door.

"I had an interesting conversation with Anthony this morning." Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Please, Jethro, the boy is worried. Supposedly, that was some training exercise. I understand that Sam is barely walking." Ducky looked less than pleased.

"Not that bad, Duck. Just some bruises."

"Please allow me to determine that. Off with your shirt."

"Don't have time for this, Duck."

"You will if I sign a paper stating that you are unfit for duty." With a growl, Gibbs slid off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. Ducky drew in a deep breath.

"Oh, Jethro. This goes past a simple bruise. Does it hurt to draw in a breath?"

"Not much. She's got a hard fist, though."

"I can imagine." Ducky checked him over, and to Gibbs chagrin, he was ordered to wear a knee brace for a least a week, after which the ME would reexamine him.

####################################

Sam was confused and a little scared as she entered NCIS. Had it been a problem that she'd worked out with Gibbs? Her detail hadn't told her anything beyond the order to get dressed and get to NCIS as soon as possible. Security had barely stopped her, acting as if they were expecting her. Unlike the last time, her visitors pass had been waiting for her at the desk, and she'd been cleared in moments. She hoped it was just a sign that she was known by them now, and not that she was in deep trouble.

Lisa, her detail for the day, punched the button for the elevator.

"We're not going upstairs?"

"No, I was asked to take you to autopsy." They stepped into the elevator as she finished her sentence.

"Autopsy?" Sam paled.

The word had her suddenly flashing to the day she'd taken Ellis' clothes to the mortuary. His body had been laid out, one tube draining his blood as another tube pushed embalming fluids into his body. The mortician hadn't answered the door, so she'd followed the sign that said "come in" with an arrow pointing down the hall. She shook her head. This wasn't a small town where the funeral home was just another place in town. She doubted Ducky had his kids doing their homework down here.

Her feet moving out of habit rather than thought, Sam followed obediently, trying to get her mind out of the past and into the present. She looked up at the quiet_shoosh_of the pressurized doors. To her relief, there were no bodies on any tables, and no sign of the equipment that had been burned into her memory.

"Sam, my dear, are you alright?" Ducky suddenly appeared in her line of vision. "You look quite peaked."

"Just a memory." She shuddered involuntarily, and then winced in pain, her hand moving to press gently on a rib.

"You're hurt." He didn't phrase it as a question. "I have already spoken with Jethro about your little altercation."

"We didn't fight, Ducky." Sam rolled her eyes as she sat on the stool he pointed her to.

"So he said, as well. However, I felt it prudent to put his knee in a brace for at least a week."

"You're kidding me." She gaped at him. "I didn't mean to hurt him! Is he ok?"

"He'll heal." Ducky gently held her head as he began probing around her blackened eye. "I feel only soft tissue damage. You are a lucky lady. Any vision troubles, headaches?"

"No, no concussion." Sam answered guiltily. "Had a headache last night, but that was it."

"There are healthier ways of dealing with anger and fear, Sam."

"I know." She sighed heavily, only to grasp her side again.

"I'm going to insist on x-raying that. And this bruise on your shoulder has me concerned." He slid her shirt aside, getting a better look at her back. He tutted as he got his first glimpse of the large purple splotch that now made up her shoulder blade. "Did you dislocate your shoulder?"

"No." Sam looked down at her hands. "Just popped it a bit. It went right back in, no pushing or pulling necessary."

"What on earth would possess you and Jethro to abuse one another so badly? He has bruises and a slight knee injury, while you have what seems to be a nearly dislocated shoulder, possible cracked ribs, a black eye, and who knows what else." Ducky stopped for a moment, taking in her downcast face. "Why would you do this? Was this the only way you could think of to release the pain of your experience?"

"I don't know, Ducky." Sam shrugged slightly. "We started sparring, he was showing me some ways to protect myself, and…I can't explain it."

"Try, my dear."

"It just felt good." She met his eyes. "Not that I liked being hit, but it felt good to be doing something. Like, this dam of frustration and energy broke, and I was able to get it out. It was relieving, and laughing with him while we sparred was…wonderful." Tears sprang into her eyes.

"It was as if I had some control back over something. For a moment, I was in control again. I wasn't being treated like a victim, and I was powerful. Not like being on a power trip, but…"

"You had the opportunity to strike out at someone who had caused you pain, and you didn't need to rely on anyone protecting you." Sam nodded in agreement.

"What's wrong with me, Ducky?"

"Nothing, Sam." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Nothing that a good cup of tea, a safe, preferably non-contact workout two to three times a week, and a few visits to your therapist won't help."

After a thorough check, Ducky allowed her to go home with strict instructions to spend the day in bed and to lift nothing heavier than a gallon of milk. Sam groaned in frustration.

"Don't argue, young lady." He gave her a glare that was nearly as good as Gibbs'. "You have two cracked **ribs; that** shoulder concerns me, and as for the bruise on your leg, well, I'm just glad you have a skeletal structure that allows you to take a hit like that with no damage. It does, however, make me concerned that I'll need **to discuss your workouts with Jethro."**

"I promise no more beating him up." Ducky chuckled. "I'm as concerned with his injuries. You, my dear, pack quite a punch."

"Learned as a kid. My dad drank."

"Ah. That does explain the previously broken bones." Sam averted her gaze. "I shall not press, but I do insist that you find an outlet for the stress you feel that is far healthier than the one you chose."

######################################

Gibbs ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He'd been called to autopsy once again as he was leaving by a still furious Ducky. The man had checked Sam's injuries, and due to her high level of pain tolerance built over years, she was in far worse shape than he'd realized.

"_Jethro, need I remind you that she is under your protection?"_

"_I know that, Duck, I never intended…"_

"_To break bones?"_

"_I broke a bone?"_

"_Two cracked ribs, Jethro. I must insist that if you are not able to refrain from hurting her, that your home is no longer a viable safe house for her."_

"_It won't happen again, Duck, trust me." Gibbs tried to figure out what else to say. He felt horrible. She'd not acted as though she'd been seriously injured._

"_Jethro, she is in a state of mind in which she feels she has no control. I have suggested two to three non-sparring workouts per week. May I also suggest that you aid her in finding a hobby? She is accustomed to being busy, to having a home to care for and a farm to manage. Now that she is settling in, she needs more than your boat to keep her busy."_

"_Oh,__**geez**__. I never thought of that."_

The conversation played like a record over and over in his mind as he stopped off for dinner. He'd called his house when Sam's phone had gone straight to voice mail, and had been informed that she was sleeping. A roasted chicken from the deli and all the sides suddenly sounded wonderful to the man.

He poked through the shelves looking for something to express his hope that she wasn't angry with him when he spotted the floral department. Flowers had sometimes gotten him out of trouble before, and if she didn't like them, she'd not be stuck with them forever, unlike the monkey he held dressed up in bandages with an "I'm sorry" card stitched to its sling.

Sam was just coming down the stairs as he walked through the door. She tread carefully, something he'd not noticed that morning.

"Hi." She smiled weakly at him.

"Hi." Gibbs nearly head-slapped himself. He'd constructed a decent apology in his head, but right now, he'd be damned if he could think of it. "Got these for you." He held out the flowers like a teenager with his first crush.

"Thanks." She took the bouquet, looking at it as if mildly bewildered. He figured it would be better to muddle through a second apology later, and held up the grocery sack.

"Got a chicken with the sides."

"Are they any good? I was thinking of buying one a while back, but wasn't sure if they were a waste of money or not."

"No, they're pretty good." He walked past her, doing his best to hide his slight limp.

"Heard I hurt your knee. I'm so sorry."

"Well, we knew we hurt it last night." Gibbs chuckled.

"Yes, but not enough to need a brace."

"This is nothing." He met her serious gaze. "Ducky let me have it twice today. And I deserved it both times." He sighed as he ran his hand over his face. "I didn't realize I'd hit you hard enough to break ribs."

"Don't worry about it." She held the flowers up a bit. "I've had worse from animals. Besides, I got flowers."

"You like 'em?"

"Yeah." She looked at the multicolored bunch. "I've never gotten them before. Thanks."

A week later, when they were wilted, Gibbs found himself replacing the flowers. He'd noticed her trying to keep them vibrant for_just one more day_. If the flowers brightened her life that much, he figured they were a good investment toward her smile.

#####################################

Another two weeks passed, and Sam was due back in court the next morning. Thankfully, her black eye had healed, Gibbs had been careful to avoid any more headshots during their sparring sessions, and she felt a little more confident than she had at Phyllis' trial.

Even with the gained confidence of finally feeling like she understood what would happen in court, Sam felt the need for the added centering and security that she could find in sweating. Gibbs watched her prepare the little shed out back and debated about asking her if she'd mind some company. He'd only done it the one time, but he'd found answers.

Since the night of the Marine Ball, he'd battled with thoughts and emotions that he'd not felt for 20 years. Yes, he'd had moments of feeling_something_, but this was a clear cut emotional response. And it frightened him.

"Gibbs, you ok?" Sam stood in the door with a concerned frown. "You were totally zoned out."

"Just something on my mind." He cleared his throat. "Um, could I maybe join you?"

"In the sweat?"

"Yeah."

"Sure." Her answer was soft, barely reaching his ears. "I'll wait for you to go, then."

"I'm ready, I think." Gibbs pulled out his phone. "Just let me call my detail. I'm worried about not being 'here' if something happens."

"You're worried about the trial tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Worried, too, about Jordan. She's not stable, and she's not done anything, but…"

"Your gut is churning."

"Yeah. I just have this feeling like she's waiting for us to let our guard down."

#######################################

Sam put a match to the small stack of kindling as Gibbs settled into his spot. He crossed his legs and leaned back against the wall, slowing his breath in an effort to calm his thoughts. Sam had walked him through the steps of calming himself to reach that meditative state while they'd waited for Paul and Frank to arrive.

As the heat began to radiate and fill the tiny room, Gibbs dug deep. He drew in deep breaths, and fairly squeezed his eyes shut. Sam's voice cut through the quiet.

"You're trying too hard, Gibbs. Relax. Picture yourself in the lodge at the farm with Joseph. Do the same thing here as you did there."

Gibbs slackened his jaw, rolled his shoulders, and stretched his neck. He imagined himself walking through the field he and his mom walked in when he was a kid. Before long, he felt himself sinking, and with pleasure at the relaxed sensation, gave himself over to it.

He knew Sam said something, but he was too content in the moment to pay attention. A song he sort of recognized as a prayer began, and he let his mind take him where it would. He found himself sitting on a log in a forest. He felt the dampness of the moss and the cool breeze against his face.

Across from him, Sam was sitting by her pond. Today, no animals greeted her, not even her raccoon. She waited for her guide, patiently drawing in the peace the spirits were giving to her. Tears began to fall, and with not really knowing why, she felt great gasps of sorrow leave her breast.

The emotion built in her, and she realized that it came not from within her, but from Gibbs. His sorrow was so great that it was spilling out of him in waves. If his pain was so great, she would share it with him for a time before leaving him alone with it once again.

His sorrow became manageable, and she built a wall in her mind to block his pain for the moment. With relief, she knew when his guide arrived to help him. His pain seemed to withdraw into him once again, and then ran in a fast current over her. Perhaps Ellis had come to him. Or perhaps he remembered something from his time with Joseph. Either way, the man sweating with her threw his pain away, allowing room for love and peace.

Yes, sorrow could come another day, and would, for that is the way of grief. Choosing to let go of the temporary link she had with him, she focused instead on the beauty of the lake before her. Before long, she saw a fish break the waters' surface. Peace settled in her as she realized she'd not made a mistake. She just needed to focus.

Gathering all of the negativity she felt within and around her, Sam balled it up and threw it away, letting the wind carry it off. Peace filled the space, and she welcomed the quite woman who led her down a path she'd not seen before. It was closely foliaged and at times, the sun barely poked through the leaves.

"_Why are we coming here?"_

"_I have so much to tell you." The strange woman's words were delivered in a pleasant, content voice. "Some of them are hard, some of them are easy, and I didn't want to risk the peace you find at your lake."_

"_You've been with me there before?"_

"_Just watching." Her guide smiled. "Wondering if I'd ever get to speak with you, and here we are." She smiled. "In more ways than one."_

_The path opened into a bright, almost perfect circle of light. What drew Sam's attention was the waterfall that splashed down onto the rocks. Moss grew on the rock's face, and heavy trees, ferns, and flowers surrounded a single large boulder that sat off to the side, as if posing as a comfortable couch._

"_Please, sit." Sam sat, obeying without question the spirit which led her. The woman smiled at her. "This was my favorite place as a child." She pointed up to a small batch of flowers growing high on a ledge. "I used to imagine that I'd one day be able to reach those, pick them, and take them home. And now that I can, I appreciate their beauty and wouldn't want them moved."_

"_It's beautiful here."_

"_Thank you." Her guide sighed. "I have to tell you some things. Some of them will be hard."_

"_I know." A look of compassion flashed across her guide's face. "Will this last longer than I realize?"_

"_Yes, it will. I'm sorry."_

"_What will happen?"_

"_I'm not to tell you the future in detail." Then she leaned forward with a mischievous smile. "I can tell you that all of the court dates will be profitable to you."_

"_I don't care about the money."_

"_I know." Sam felt her guide's hand slip into hers. "I know you don't care about the money." The women sat in quiet for a long while. "But it will come in handy."_

_Although no words were used, Sam saw the woman's thoughts in her mind, as if she were watching a movie. She saw Joseph and his mother fight. The young man wanted her to accept him, and she felt he owed her something. She saw them never having the chance to reconcile._

_She saw Amy, her niece, get hurt. The more she tried to see into the girls' future, the cloudier it got. With a feeling of resignation, she knew she would have to wait to see what would happen. Little Acheflow and Allie danced happily across the screen of her thoughts, and she smiled as she saw them playing with a small herd of goats. Perhaps Joseph would get them when he was done with school._

"_Jethro will need you, Sam. He'll need comforted as he faces the losses yet to come." Sam's eyes filled with tears as she felt a great sorrow yet to come._

"_What will happen?"_

"_I cannot tell you." Sam squeezed her companions' hand tightly. "But he'll treasure your friendship, and will come to rely on it."_

"_What can I do?" Sam's voice cracked, and gentle hands drew her into a tight embrace._

"_Cry with him, like you're doing now." The woman chuckled. "You can't change it. Well, you could, but it's better if you don't try. You can just be there for him."_

"_He's a good friend."_

"_Yes, and perhaps, he will be more than a friend one day?" Sam looked into the woman's eyes and knew who she was._

"_Shannon?" Her guide nodded._

"_Just as Ellis could visit Jethro at your farm, I can visit with you here. This is where we found our contentment, and this is where we can reach out the clearest."_

"_I have so many questions."_

"_I'm sure you do." Shannon smiled. "Some of them are about Jethro, I know. He'll be fine. He's moving on, even if he's afraid, he's learning. It'll just take some time, and maybe some understanding that he's not to blame."_

"_For__**your**__and Kelly's murders?"_

"_Partially, yes. He's terrified to let go and love again. He's afraid that if he does, he'll have just found a new way to hide, and not deal with his pain. He made his problem worse with all of those terrible marriages, divorces, the girlfriends that were terrible, and…"_

"_Oh, the times you would have hit him if you could?" Shannon smiled at Sam._

"_He'll be a great friend to you for your entire life if you want him there."_

"_I feel as if I've known him forever sometimes." Sam shrugged. "And other times, it's as if he's a complete stranger."_

"_He hides, even from himself." Shannon chuckled. "It's by far his worst fault. Second only to the sawdust he drags through the house." Sam laughed._

_The women shared a little longer time at the waterfall before heading back to the pond. Shannon patted Sam's shoulder and told her to have a good life._

"_Will I see you again sometime?"_

"_Probably not." Shannon shrugged. "I came this time because you needed me."_

"_And if I need you again?" Sam looked frightened._

"_Then perhaps I'll come." Shannon tucked a bit of Sam's hair behind her ear. "Your life may never be dull again, but it'll be good." A kiss to her forehead, and Sam felt herself pulling back from her space._

Sam sat back against the warm wood of the shed. Her eyes were still closed, and she allowed herself to wake up fully from her vision. She opened her eyes carefully, not sure she wanted to leave her space yet, but knowing she needed to. Sometimes sweats surprised her, as they took turns she wasn't expecting. Today was certainly one of those times.

She'd not expected to find anything today but peace for her trial the next day. Instead, she'd found peace for years. She didn't understand all that she had seen, but it wasn't anything that she feared. She opened her eyes, looking over to where Jethro still sat peacefully.

There was no way to tell how much time had passed. Nothing modern had come in with them, so there was no watch or phone to check the time. She waited until she no longer felt comfortable in the heat before she considered waking him. He looked so peaceful that she regretted needing to do it. However, when her stomach began to revolt with the intensity of the heat, she decided it was time.

"Hey, Gibbs?" She spoke to him twice before he groaned lightly in response. He smiled lazily at her, as if he'd been drugged.

"Gotta do this more often."

"Get some answers?" He nodded dopily, and reached over to open the door. Both of them sighed as the warm, yet chilly in comparison air rushed in.

It was a while longer before either of them made their way out of the shelter. Gibbs was still lost in a fog of contentment. Sam had no idea what he'd seen, but his positive feelings had radiated out from him as she'd sat with him for that time.

"You get answers?"

"Not the ones I expected, but yes." He grunted a soft acknowledgement.

#############################################

Early the next morning, Gibbs finished making breakfast while Sam got ready for Christopher to pick her up. She'd driven twice, once with Gibbs as a passenger, and once with Tony. Both times, she'd pulled over in a near panic at the heavy traffic and asked them to drive. She'd gotten so accustomed to the light traffic of the high plains that even the "light" traffic in DC was terrifying to her.

Today was Bill Giles' trial. He **was** the camera man who'd come out to the farm with Carol **Jordan**. He had pled guilty to the slander and libel, but had proclaimed his innocence for the trespassing charges. It seemed that he was trying to help his former coworker a bit if he could.

The trial was blessedly short. Gibbs had submitted an affidavit stating that he had asked them to leave, and his word carried far more weight than an admittedly guilty cameraman. Sam took the stand and answered questions as she could, admitting that most of that day was a haze, due to the upset caused by her brother-in-law, the attack on the farm, and the arrival of a certain news crew.

The judge was less than amused with Mr. Giles' waste of the legal system's time. Thankfully the man had requested a trial by judge rather than by jury. When the closing statements were finished, Judge Fredrickson was prepared with his ruling of "guilty".

Bill Giles was ordered to pay a fine of **$25,000** and was ordered to perform 120 hours of community service. Giles was happy to walk away relatively unscathed, which he figured he owed to the apology he read to Mrs. Walking Tall in place of having his attorney make one more feeble plea for his innocence.

#########################################

"How was it today?"

"Good." Sam sighed as she leaned against the counter before pulling down a coffee mug. "He's got community service, a sore ear from listening to the judge's speech about ethics and how a journalist needs to assume innocence until proven otherwise, and how trying to use the press to force **an** issue is a terrible travesty of justice."

"Southerland didn't go after cash?" Gibbs sounded surprised. So far, the man had been lethal in getting Sam monetary compensation.

"Oh, yeah." She chuckled as she took her first sip of the steaming brew. "He's got to pay **$25,000.** Don't know how he'll do it. Guy's already lost his job and is still looking for another."

"Yeah. But he screwed up."

"Gibbs, I just feel so bad. Yes, he screwed up. Yes, he got fired, and yes, he's got to do community service to make up for it. But he was following orders."

"All of that may be true." Gibbs put his hand around her neck, squeezing **the back of it** gently. "But he committed a crime, and this is the price."

Sam's eyes closed for a moment as she nodded. "I know. I just hate that all of this is going on."

"Not your fault. Come on, sit."

"What?"

"Sit. Your neck's tight." Moments later, Sam groaned in relief as Gibbs' calloused hands dug into the cramping muscles in her shoulders and neck.


	67. Chapter 67

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, or anything associated with it. All characters are made up in my little head, and if a name is someone's, I apologize.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar, my amazing and helpful beta!

Note: I want to thank everyone who has PM'd me, favorited this story, or reviewed. If I've not replied, I'm sorry. I got very ill, and wasn't able to write. I'm on the mend, but your prayers would be appreciated. I'm in for a LONG recovery, and unfortunately won't be able to return to my beloved goat tending or any sort of farm work. Which leaves me looking for what I do want to do with my life. Kinda scary. Anyway, I'd like to ask for your prayers for a full recovery (at least the best I can have. A full recovery isn't possible, unfortunately), and peace of mind about what to do with my future. Thank you all again for reading, and God bless you all! I have really appreciated all of the support and messages I've received. And once again, sorry that this chapter has been so long in coming, and that it's so short.

###########################################

Carol Jordan sat next to her public defender during the seating of the jury. She sized people up, as did her defender. Why she hadn't been able to retain a reputable lawyer was still beyond her understanding, but Geoff was doing his best, and she knew that when she took the stand in her own defense, that everything would be fine. Geoff had asked her to not take the stand, but Carol figured she knew better than that. After all, only guilty people didn't defend themselves.

She liked the woman who stated that people are innocent until proven guilty, and that sometimes people are charged, but that doesn't mean they're guilty. Regretfully, she was the first one eliminated by the prosecution in the selection. Why each side got to choose 5 people at random with no explanation to excuse was beyond her.

When a grumpy man stated his belief that only the guilty people are brought before judges, she understood the rule, and was grateful for it. Had he sat on her jury, she'd certainly be found guilty. There was no doubt in Carol's mind that the man would talk the others into his particular belief.

The irony was lost on her, yet the young man beside her rolled his eyes as he excused the elderly gentleman. The thought that she deserved to have a jury made up entirely of Homer Wortzbowers was pushed from his head as he determined to get his client as fair of a trial as possible.

It took nearly a week for a jury to be seated that hadn't heard about the flap with Sam and the farm. Most the jury was made up of older members of the community who preferred Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune to the news. The rest was comprised of late teens who were excited to be on their first jury, eager to see how the legal system really worked.

Carol sat back, somewhat irritated at the jury. She'd hoped for professionals who would understand the need for occasionally overstepping boundaries and being creative with facts. Instead, she was faced with two eighteen year-olds who had just graduated, a nineteen year-old who was part-way through his first semester of college, and several elderly men and women who admitted that they didn't watch the news because it was always so depressing.

###########################################

Sam fussed with her newly cut hair for another moment before giving up. Why she was so nervous about facing Carol was a mystery to the usually calm woman, but she was a bundle of nerves. Gibbs called up the stairs, asking if she was ready to go, and she grumbled softly and lip-synced the words "are you ready yet" with a decided sneer.

It was a moment before she actually answered. Gibbs smirked and readjusted his tie. How many times had he gotten that same delayed reply to that question from Shannon or Jenny? And it had amused him every time. He'd wondered once what took Shannon so long to answer, so he'd tried to sneak up on her in their first apartment. It was a mistake he'd never wished to repeat. He'd caught a glimpse of her snarling into the mirror seconds before a shoe landed near his head.

Sam finally came down the stairs, and he reached for his keys, knowing the age-old unsafe question was coming.

"Do I look ok?" Gibbs looked Sam up and down, pretending to assess the outfit she'd come to prefer for court. It was comfortable yet classy, and she looked nice in it.

"Yep, lookin' good. Ready?" Sam nodded.

"I just have this fear that she's going to be found innocent, and," Sam paused, "and I'm not sure how I'll take that. This woman ruined my life, yes, it was with the help of my neighbors, but she took the mess nationwide. What am I going…" Gibbs tapped the back of her head lightly.

"If she wasn't guilty, her network wouldn't have settled out of court. So don't worry. Most people aren't crazy or dumb. They'll hear both sides, and make an intelligent decision."

"I'm not sure I trust people much anymore, Jethro." Gibbs nodded slightly, acknowledging her admission, and was wise enough to not try to answer.

They arrived at the courthouse twenty minutes later after a quick stop for coffee, and they strode through the hall together, their solidarity creating a nearly visible bubble of confidence around them. Christopher met them, extending his hand, shaking Sam's and then Gibbs. He leaned forward and whispered something to them that no one else could hear, and the three chuckled. Tensions eased, they walked in to take their places.

Today was Carol's trial for her part in the spread of rumors and the loss of Sam's farm. Christopher had prepared to show financial statements for several years from the farm, records of the sales from animals, the value of the animals, and how the financial devastation affected Sam.

#################################

"Can you describe for me what happened that afternoon?" Christopher started his examination of Samantha Walking Tall, and Carol felt her world shift. For the first time, she had a glimpse of the fear and terror the shorter woman had experienced. The confusion Sam felt when Carol had accosted her was something the reporter had never considered. Guilt began to flood her before she tamped it down easily, aided by her months of proclaiming her innocence. If she accepted guilt now, she was done. The jurors would see her expression, and she'd be in deep trouble. Within seconds, she'd managed to toss the rise of guilt and shame aside as if it were an old rag and put on her party frock of innocence.

Her faultless attitude felt better, and as she listened, she managed to return her mindset to the scoffing attitude she had held toward the country bumpkin that had ruined her life with her whimpering of unfairness and inequality. Sam continued speaking, answering questions, growing emotional as she spoke of parceling out her livestock and leaving her home. Carol scoffed quietly.

"Careful." Geoff leaned over to her. "You're being disrespectful, and the jury is seeing it. Put it aside." Carol schooled her features carefully, blocking out the drone of the descriptions given in the front of the courtroom.

Behind the prosecution's bench, Gibbs sat watching Carol, seething at her actions. She'd stared at her nails, seeming to decide they needed a good filing, and had rolled her eyes more times than he could count. She'd scoffed loud enough to be heard at least twice, and had shifted position, displaying her boredom so many times he felt like head-slapping her like he'd do to DiNozzo. At least his MCRT leader had the benefit of ADHD to explain his constant need of movement.

Christopher turned from where he'd been questioning Sam, and made eye contact with him. Gibbs rolled his eyes over to Carol, who was currently looking like she'd be tugging on a curl and blowing a bubble only if she had gum. A subtle nod from the attorney let him know she'd been seen. He smirked when he realized the judge had seen her, as well. And the man didn't seem amused.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Walking Tall," Judge Hamilton interrupted Sam's reply to Geoff's cross-examination. "Miss Jordan, either you stop acting like a child over there and show proper respect, or I'll have you removed from this courtroom. This behavior of huffing and scoffing and rolling your eyes will end now, or I'll find you in contempt. Is that clear?"

Carol blanched, but nodded, accepting her fate as the jury frowned in her direction. They'd noticed her moving, but had been more interested in what Mrs. Walking Tall had to say. The judge's speech shocked them out of their complacency, and they all had reactions to Carol's behavior. Some of them saw her behavior through eyes colored from their own experiences with racism, while others saw her as being rude and obnoxious. Two of them saw her as selfish and mean, while one of the younger men saw in her the same attitude of the bullies who had tormented him in school.

Sam finished speaking, and the court adjourned for lunch. Christopher treated Sam and Gibbs to lunch, joking that Sam was paying for it anyway. She laughed and ordered the most expensive thing on the menu, something Gibbs had never seen her do before. He quirked an eyebrow, and she grinned back at him.

"If I'm paying for us to eat somewhere this nice, I'm gonna eat like I'm rich. You should do the same. We're down to hamburger at home." Christopher nearly spit out the drink of water he'd just taken, reminded once again that drinking when Sam was speaking was tantamount to taking his life into his hands. Her penchant for one-liners in tense situations had become legendary around his office.

While they relaxed around a peaceful lunch, Carol had a far different experience. Geoff stared the woman down, his fury making him seem older and wiser than his former peacefulness had lead her to believe.

"What is wrong with you? Do you _want_ to spend years in the penitentiary? If you do, you're well on your way to an eight by eight room for life."

"She's just going for sympathy! She's pathet…"

"She's got the jury eating out of her hand, and frankly, you've made this trial practically impossible to win." His voice held venom. "You need to get your poop in a pile, and stop monkeying around. This afternoon, you need to act dignified, you need to be respectful, and don't pull the crap you did this morning. You've earned enemies on that jury, and this will be your only chance to redeem yourself. Don't screw it up."

###############################

The afternoon had passed without incident. Carol had behaved herself, seeming to draw respect and politeness up from some unknown internal spring. Gibbs had testified, and after his cross-examination, Carol had taken the stand in her own defense.

She'd rambled on and on, talking about how she'd interviewed people in town and had been misled. When Christopher asked her about verifying facts before assuming, she was comically without answers. The jury didn't fail to notice.

Even though the outcome seemed predestined, but Gibbs and Sam had both been burned by people and their sometimes illogical decisions so many times that they found themselves playing with their take-out chicken dinners rather than eating. Gibbs finally gave up and nodded to the basement. Sam nodded, and the early morning hours found them still sanding and shaping in companionable silence.

Copious amounts of coffee, a bit of cover-up to hide the dark circles under Sam's eyes from two mostly sleepless nights, and they were seated in court once more. The jury had received their instructions moments before after closing arguments, and they were off to deliberate. The judge called a recess, ordering them to return after lunch.

#################################

In the deliberation room, the members of the jury discussed the case over sandwiches. There were fifteen charges on the table, and they had to have an answer for each. As each one was brought up, the votes were unanimous. There was no doubt that her actions, even before she had gone to the farm, fueled the tensions which led to Sam being forced from her farm.

The jury foreman went through each charge again, making sure that everyone really understood and agreed to their unanimous vote. The twelve people reaffirmed their answers, and he called the bailiff, letting the man know they'd reached their verdict.

Christopher received a phone call from the clerk, and they returned to the courtroom, waiting patiently for the jury to enter. One by one, they filed in, sitting in solemn silence. Gibbs breathed a sigh of relief. One way or another, this part of Sam's life would be settled.


	68. Chapter 68

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to my awesome beta, Headbanger Rockstar! Love you! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: A shout out to Stareagle for mentioning a hole in the plot that is important and I left it big enough for a semi. Lol So thanks, Stareagle!

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"Have you the jury reached a verdict regarding the first charge, which is slander?"

"Yes, Your Honor." The young man who had been elected to speak for the 12 members of the jury spoke clearly as he handed the folded paper over to the bailiff. The judge unfolded the paper and read their verdict. Sam held her breath, hoping they'd not been taken in by Carol's explanations and excuses.

"_He was staying out at her farm, so anything could have happened." Marcus, one of the nineteen year olds was determined that Carol's argument about Director Gibbs coming to town and letting it be known he was going to the Walking Tall farm was tantamount to waving their alleged affair like a banner._

"_Do you really believe that the director of a federal agency would go to a small town, announce his affair with a woman, and then stick around?" Moses, an elderly African American man shook his head. "That man has been around long enough to earn his position. He's smart, and if he was going to have an affair, he'd have kept his mouth shut."_

_Around the table, heads nodded, including Marcus, who saw the older man's point. _

"_So are we agreed?" Joel spoke up. "Guilty with a show of hands." Twelve hands went up. "And just to be certain, Innocent with a show of hands." Everyone's hands stayed down._

"You may tell the court your verdict, Foreman."

"In the matter of slander against Samantha Walking Tall, we find the defendant guilty." The judge marked his notes.

"Have you the jury reached a verdict on the second charge, which is also slander?"

"Yes, Your Honor." The process began again, with the bailiff taking the folded sheet of paper.

"_It does seem rather odd that she's staying at his house. Especially all of these months." Florence believed that Carol was wrong in speaking out, but wasn't sure she really believed Samantha and Gibbs' reasons for their co-habitation. _

_Joel flipped through his notes, asking others to do the same. They each had a copy of the medical records from the team, and as they read, it became apparent that her staying to help with their recovery was indeed necessary. The dates of Tony's return to his home and her first of many meetings with her lawyers coincided. _

"_But this still doesn't explain why she didn't rent a house, or stay with someone else."_

_Marcus rolled his eyes. _

"_She had to stay with him because she's under federal protection, and in this next page, we have the report and affidavit from the PI she hired to spy on them. She has an agent with her every day at the house, and he's home at night. That's 24 hour protection."_

_Florence sat in thought for a moment. _

"_I guess if I was her, I'd want to be where I felt safest, even if people were to talk." Around her, heads nodded. Joel asked once again for a vote. _

"You may tell the court your verdict, Foreman."

"In the matter of the second charge, which is also slander, we find the defendant guilty."

Sam bit her lip, thrilled at the outcome so far, but not wanting to get her hopes up too high. Unconsciously, her nails dug into her palms, nearly making them bleed. One by one, the twelve charges brought against Carol Jordan were answered.

Libel, trespassing, assault, and loss of property due to criminal slander, loss of property due to criminal libel, and False Light (which provides for the emotional suffering caused by criminal slander and libel), joined the long list of charges.

One by one, the verdicts came in of "Guilty".

As Sam sat feeling relief flooding through her, Carol sat with disbelief and anger written on her face. She openly glared at the members of the jury, making several of them squirm. Judge Hamilton was watching her from the corner of his eye, all the while taking in the reactions of the jury. It was obvious that she was doing her best to make them feel her wrath from where she sat.

"In the matter of financial loss to Mrs. Walking Tall in regards to her livestock…"

"_Did she really have to sell them that cheaply? That's all I'm wondering." Mrs. Finnigan looked at the price sheets before her. Sam had kept detailed records of what each animal had sold for when their leases ran out and she still had no farm. _

"_I think they probably paid what they could." Mr. Harkson held up a letter of apology sent with one of the checks. In it, the family thanked her for allowing them to buy the animals, understanding that she'd tried to sell them to other farms for higher prices. _

_Apparently the market was suffering a down turn at the moment due to the economy, and no one was able to buy them at their value. Several of the bills of sale were accompanied by photographs of their children playing with well-fed and happy goats. In one, a goat lay sleeping as if she were a dog, a small child using her as a pillow. _

"_So she lost money rather than send them to farms where they may not be loved."_

"_That's what I think. You can tell she loves her animals. Nobody who doesn't would keep records like this. Genealogies for the last twenty five generations? Records of birth order? Who does this?"_

"_Someone dedicated to their livelihood." Several heads nodded._

"_But is Miss Jordan responsible?"_

"_I don't think she's the reason Mrs. Walking Tall had to leave the farm in the first place, no." Moses spoke with quiet contemplation, weighing his words even as he spoke. "But I do believe that Miss Jordan made the problem worse. I think that if things hadn't gone so wrong with the media and all of that mess, that Mrs. Walking Tall could have started a farm again somewhere already and gotten her animals back."_

"_So that would make Miss Jordan responsible." Todd, one of the youngest members of the jury spoke up. "Not because she's the one that made Mrs. Walking Tall leave, but because her actions kept her, I mean, Mrs. Walking Tall, from being able to start over already."_

"_That's what I think. Anyone agree?" He looked to Joel, who took an official vote. Judging by the number of heads that had nodded to the older man's question, he didn't really need to ask._

"…we find the defendant guilty."

"That is _not_ my fault!" Carol exploded from where she sat. "I didn't make her leave her farm! She was packing up and getting out long before I got there! You guys are just looking for someone but her to blame! You can't blame me for her incompetence at her…"

"Miss Jordan!" Judge Hamilton thundered from his bench. "That is enough!" He cut a glare at her attorney. "If you can't control your client, I'll have her thrown from this courtroom and charged with contempt. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Your Honor." The young man looked nearly as angry as Gibbs, yet his obvious disapproval of her behavior didn't stop her. Carol was on a rampage.

"You call yourself my defense? If you'd defended me _properly_…" The gavel nearly broke as it met with the bench several times.

"Get her out of my courtroom." He motioned to the bailiff. "I'm adding charges of contempt. Put her in a cell, bail denied until she can come before another judge in the morning."

##########################################

"…other news from around the nation, the case involving Mrs. Samantha Walking Tall and news reporter Carol Jordan took a surprising turn today."

Mary turned up the volume and shushed her children, all of whom were squabbling over the last bit of pudding in good-natured sibling rivalry. Joseph left the table where he'd been pretending to hog the dish and sat by his mom. The three younger girls came over, the two eldest sitting on either side of them, as the youngest crawled into Joseph's lap.

A video of the trial began to play, and the family watched as the jury foreman began to read their verdict, only to watch as he was interrupted by Carol. The woman ranted, proving to the nation that she was indeed out for blood, and was most likely had been from the beginning. Not even murderers had the nerve to behave that way.

Meanwhile, Sam sat in shocked silence, her jaw tense, eyes huge, and breathing becoming visibly more rapid. The judge ordered Carol into custody, and then called a recess to allow Sam to pull herself together.

##############################################

Tony and Abby were the first to arrive for the celebration at Gibbs house. The silver haired man was alone in the kitchen. They looked around quickly for Sam, and Gibbs held his finger to his lips.

"She's still sleeping. I think the stress of everything finally got to her. Ducky came over and gave her a light sedative. He's out getting a few things she'll want as comfort food later." Abby started to head to the stairs. "Let her sleep, Abs."

"I just need to check on her, Gibbs. Make sure she's really ok." At Gibbs' nod, she crept up the stairs and to the door of the room that had become Sam's.

Abby could hear the low rumble of the men discussing the trial and its outcome as she reached her friends door. She knew it had ended well, but past that, she was clueless. Something had happened, or Sam would be her usual self and bustling about the kitchen. Abby was worried, as not since this whole mess started had Sam felt the need to hide away from people and regroup.

Sam heard steps in the hall and mentally groaned. She hoped it wasn't Jethro checking on her again. He and Ducky had been so careful about making sure she was settled in and fine earlier, that she was still wishing for quiet. She let out the breath she held as the door opened slightly to reveal Abby's black hair.

"Come in." Sam whispered from where she lay covered almost to her mouth. "How are you, Abby?"

"I came in to check on you, and maybe ask you the same thing." Sam scooted over a bit and patted the side of her bed.

"Come have a sit." Sam yawned. "I don't feel like getting up yet."

Abby lay down atop the covers, her head resting next to Sam's. They'd often grabbed quick naps together in the days following the attack which left the team in her care. Abby had come over as often as she could, and sometimes the only way Jethro could get Sam to rest was to send Abby up, demanding a bit of "girl time". Sam saw right through their ploy, yet she never failed to fall asleep while talking to the bubbly young woman.

"Today was pretty rough, huh?" Sam just nodded, allowing another yawn to give her a moment to answer.

"It was." She paused. "I guess it didn't hit me, no, that's not right, but I don't know how else to explain it. It's like I knew I had lost the farm, and I knew I'd sold most of the goats, but I didn't really…. I don't know, realize how final it was until today in that courtroom."

"What made you realize it?" Abby's voice matched Sam's quiet whisper.

"I'm not sure if it was one specific thing, or if it was the whole trial." Confusion and hurt came through in her voice. "I guess I had it in the back of my mind that when all of this blew over, I'd just magically be able to go buy a new farm somewhere in the same area, certainly not the same town, but that life would sort of, I don't know, continue on as before."

"You don't think it will?"

"Not the same." Sam shook her head. "Ellis' parents are getting older, Joseph will be going somewhere that he can make a living most likely. He may stick around his mother and sisters, but he'd be smart to go make a life in a city or larger town. He's gifted, and yes, he'd be great there, but the only vets who have succeeded there are the ones who have farms on the side."

"He doesn't want to farm?"

"No. He's good at it, and he loves to work with the animals, but he's not interested in making farming his life. He wants to help as many animals and their owners as he can."

"He's a good kid." Sam chuckled.

"Yeah, he is." She grew serious again. "Mary and I aren't on good terms, and I know that's not likely to change. She's always felt like an outsider with Joseph, and envies our relationship. I don't know why he and I are so close. Maybe that's why she's angry with me. I really don't know. I've tried several times to smooth things over, but she's just determined, especially since he went off to college, that I'm turning him against her. I wish she could see that I'm not."

"You don't think she'll come around?"

"No, and I was thinking of going back there to be close to family, but she'd make life miserable once John Quincy and Doris are gone. That, and I don't want to be back somewhere that I'd end up isolated like that again."

"You're liking the noise and company now, huh?" Abby chuckled.

"A bit. I don't think I could go back to living out there so far from everyone now that I've gotten used to being close to people."

"It's a big change."

"It is." Sam nodded as she yawned.

"Think you'll go back to farming, or do you think you'll just buy a house?" Sam sighed heavily.

"I want to farm, and I was able to keep 20 goats. They're at Rick and Vicky's now, and they're being so nice and hanging onto them for me. But I don't know if I'll go back to having a large farm. Maybe I'll get just a few acres, you know, something under 50." Abby laughed quietly.

"Most people would call 50 a lot."

"Most people didn't used to live on a farm of 400." Sam yawned again. "I just don't understand why people have to be so damned stupid. Seriously, why the hell couldn't they shut their mouths and just leave me alone?"

"I don't know, Sam." Abby sighed. "I'm so sorry all of this happened, but I'm so glad I got to meet you."

"Me too. Not that it all happened, but that I got to meet all of you." Sam smiled tiredly. "Maybe today, that bitch in the courtroom was all it took to get me so worked up."

"What happened?" Abby bit back a smile at Sam's speech. She was usually mild tempered and gentle with her words. The slight slurring of her words gave away the sedative still in her system, and the curse words themselves were a clue that Sam wasn't her usual self.

"That bitch started causing problems, yelling at the jury, calling her lawyer names, and she proved to everyone what an idiot she is."

"She yelled at the jury?"

"Yeah, told them it wasn't her fault. In a way, she's right, but in another way, she's at fault. It's confusing. That's why we have lawyers, I guess." Sam's voice had trailed off, and Abby smiled as she rested a few more minutes with her friend.

Yes, they were supposed to be having a fun dinner and some games to celebrate, but that could wait. Snacks and a movie would keep them all busy as Gibbs sanded and Sam snored. Sam mumbled in her sleep, curling onto her side, facing the wall.

Gibbs poked his head in.

"Everything ok?" Abby nodded, her finger to her lips.

_She just fell asleep. You have GOT to tell me what happened at the trial today. Sounds like it turned into a zoo._

_It did._ Gibbs smirked. _Sam was a champ, but that Jordan woman made an absolute fool of herself._

Once they were down in the kitchen, Gibbs filled all four of his "kids" in on the day's events, including Sam's request for dinner in rather than going out to celebrate.

"Think she'll be ok?"

"Yes." Abby nodded firmly. "She's pissed as hell, and reality has finally seeped in that life really is going to be completely different, but she's going to be fine. She's wanting to get a small farm, but isn't sure where."

"Anything we can do to help?" Tim's sincerity shown though his eyes.

"Same as we've been doing." Gibbs sat back, proud of his former team for taking Sam in and making her one of the family. "Just be here. If she wants or needs something, she'll ask. If we think she's not asking, then we can ask her."

"She's so much like you, Boss." Tony grinned. "Think there's some sort of connection there?"

The other occupants of the room laughed as Tony's head flew forward. Upstairs, Sam was peaceful, dreaming of a new life. She saw peaceful rolling pastures and a large house. Part of her wondered why she pictured such a huge dwelling, and then her mind supplied the answer.

It was snowing, and her living room was filled with her family, both new and old. Joseph and Tony plotted on ways to earn head-slaps they could hopefully dodge, Abby was teaching Amy and Acheflow how to make fudge, Ziva and Tim were playfully arguing over some war type video game, as Mary sat with Allie on her lap. Gibbs came in from the cold, making the girls squeal as he stuck his cold hands on their necks.

Sam sat back and quietly watched, a content smile on her face. Yes, life was changing. It was changing in so many ways that her mind struggled to keep up. But one thing was constant. She had joy and hope. And that joy and hope would carry her and her family through.

A soft smile graced her face as she dreamed on. Downstairs, her companions had settled in to watch "The Day The Earth Stood Still". It would be hours before they ate, and yet no one seemed to mind. It was Sam's day. Her day of victory, and after a long battle, rest was needed.


	69. Chapter 69

Disclaimer: Don't own it!

Note: Special thanks to Headbanger Rockstar, my amazing beta whom I LOVE!

Note: I just want to thank everyone again for reviewing. I was lying in bed last night, not able to sleep from different aches and pains, and I started to read reviews. It may be totally pathetic, but I needed to feel better, and all of your kind words helped me. So thank you, everyone! I really appreciate your reviews!

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"So, DiNozzo, how's the new training going?"

"Going good, Boss." Tony smiled as he handed Abby a cup of coffee. "How's Sam?"

"Still sleeping. What are you guys talking about?"

"The new training." Ziva smiled as she spoke. "I for one, think that the agents are doing well at their training. Of course, some of them are arguing that we're not retraining since we were your team."

"Yeah," Tim smirked. "It's kinda fun to tell them that we're training them because we were trained properly."

"That's just it, Tony." Gibbs chuckled. "The three of you are the top agents, and don't forget it."

"Of course we're tops, Boss." Tony swaggered, even as he sat. "That's why you put us in charge of the training."

"No, I put you in charge of the training because I knew I could trust you. Is that something I shouldn't have?" Gibbs pretended to look around at Tony's head in confusion.

"What are you looking at, Boss?"

"That head of yours gets any more swollen, and you're not gonna get through the doors, let alone into training. Seriously, I'll be using you as a float for the boat."

"Funny, Gibbs, real funny." Tony grumbled comically as his team laughed.

#######################################################

Four days later, Gibbs and Fornell sat over coffee. The two men had run into one another on their morning jogs, and had ended their run at Fornell's favorite café. The men grumbled over the coffee as Fornell made comments regarding the difference between flavorful coffee and G.I. Hemoglobin.

"At least mine will keep you awake. This colored water just makes you think you'll stay alert." Fornell laughed at his friend and changed the subject.

"I'm impressed with the changes to the FLET-C training. Recruits aren't totally screwing up when they come in now. Your team did well."

"Don't tell DiNozzo. He's already busting like a proud papa."

"Well, as much as I hate to compliment him, he did good." Gibbs smirked and nodded. Silence reigned for a bit as the men sipped their coffee.

"So how's the mess with Sam progressing?" Gibbs sighed heavily before answering.

"It finally hit her, and she's a bit of a mess. She's getting better, but the last few days have been rough."

"Delayed reaction, huh?"

"Yeah." The men were quiet. "I remember how when my girls first died, I would expect them to come home, or when I woke up." Gibbs rubbed his thumb across the lip of his mug. "It's been sort of like the days when I really realized they weren't coming home."

Fornell was silent, knowing that feeling. He'd experienced something similar in the days following his divorce. Coming home to a house devoid of his daughter had been hard.

"She getting anything figured out?" Minutes had passed in companionable silence.

"I think so. She's sort of thinking she'll stay around here, but she's not sure of the house she wants."

"No farm?"

"Not sure. She may want a farm, and she may want just a house with a back yard. Who knows. I'm not even sure she does right now."

"But she's staying here, huh?" Tobias grinned at his friend.

"Don't get any ideas." Gibbs fairly growled his reply.

"Are you kidding me? I've eaten her cooking, and if there's a sweeter, more even tempered woman, I've never met her." Toby nearly laughed out loud at the stormy glare Jethro was fixing him with. "What? I'm just saying…"

"And I'm changing the subject."

"To what?"

"Anything but Sam." Gibbs paused for a moment. "And no asking her out. Not if you don't want me to dig up some sort of dirt on your beloved Sacks." Fornell lost his battle with self-control, and his laughter rolled through the small shop.

##################################################

Howard took a bite out of his red delicious apple, sighing in contentment as the juice ran down his chin. He'd never had such a juicy apple. Ronnie was right. That orchard had been an amazing place to spend a few days working. It had been hard work, but he'd learned a lot along the way.

Migrant Workers were a tough and capable group of people. They traveled from state to state, walking the fields of beans, corn, wheat, sunflowers, and pumpkins. They harvested apples, oranges, peaches, nearly anything that was produce and went into supermarkets.

He thought they'd vanished with the invention of better farm machinery and pesticides and herbicides. To his surprise, they flooded most states during the summer and fall months and did weeding and harvesting in the large 70-140 acre fields.

Women worked just as hard as the men, and were often in groups for safety. Safety from some of the less honest Migrant Workers, but also safety from some of the Americans, who thought that the women were up only to provide "services". He'd been knocked on his ass his first day in the field for being disrespectful to one of the women, and had quickly learned that while the ladies worked and wore short shorts and tank tops, they weren't for sale. They dressed for comfort, just like the shirtless men.

The women who were with men considered themselves to nearly be owned. They followed their "summer husband's" wishes, often asking for even the simplest of things. While at first, Howard found this to be a mockery of freedom, he soon discovered that it kept the women safer than he'd ever thought a group of travelers could ever be.

Getting one of the women alone without everyone knowing who she was with was going to take some work. He'd gained a working knowledge of the Spanish language during the two months he'd lived and worked with their mobile camp, and decided that he'd pick one of them as his lady.

He'd noticed that one of the women was usually in trouble with the others. She was a confirmed kleptomaniac, and had to be watched with even simple tasks, such as laundry. He knew he'd lost several pairs of socks to her as well.

She was perfect. No one would miss her. She had no family with the group, but was sent by her father to earn what money she could during these months. He'd not realized he was staring, and when she waved to him, batting her eyes, he waved back, his smile large and friendly.

Tonight, he'd ask her to dance at the bar. She liked to play pool, and was good at it, which meant she had bets laid and took cash readily from anyone who would play her. So tonight, he would stake his claim. She'd be his, and once he had her, he'd take off. The women loved a good American man with the potential for a green-card instead of the short-term Migrant Papers they all carried, just as the men loved to find American women who were looking for a relationship with a hard worker. It rarely happened, but the dreams did stay alive.

############################################

"We've got this weird case, Jethro."

"Yeah? What's weird about it?"

Fornell took another sip of his steaming brew before answering. Gibbs smirked at the man's hesitance to speak. He figured this must be either a doozy, or someone trying to find a crime where there was none. And given the number of brand new agents in the fibbie's neck of the woods, Gibbs wouldn't bet on anything.

"So far, it seems to be five bodies, all in different states. One in South Dakota, one in California, two in Washington, but those were nearly 200 miles apart, and one in Kansas. The tricky part is that all five were shot. But the gsw's weren't always the cause of death, and while the same type of shells were used, two different rifles fired the shots. So, do we have a clever serial killer, or two roaming morons looking to settle scores?"

"Could be either." Gibbs shrugged. "I don't envy you this one." He took a sip of his own cup and grimaced. It needed warmed, and made about twice as strong. He'd settle for warmed. "Any other similarities in the killings?"

"Sort of. You know how some killers take trophies?" Gibbs nodded. "It seems that all of these folks have had their state ID's or drivers licenses taken. Cash, of course, but the big thing is that their wallets are missing their ID's."

"Do you think it could be some sort of identity theft ring?"

"No, the people killed so far have been sort of the dregs of society. Two convicted rapists who had just gotten out on parole, one convicted armed robber, a prostitute with more STD's than Reagan had jelly beans, and a homeless man with a rap sheet longer than his height."

"Any of them serve time together?"

"That's just it. We can't find any solid connections. It's either random, or there's someone out playing vigilante. But if they're doing that, why not stick to one state?"

"That, my friend, is a good question."

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Carol fumed as she sat in the back of the cruiser taking her to her new home for the next 5 months. On one hand, she was glad she'd gotten only 5 months after the judge ordered her sentences to be carried out congruently. Otherwise, she'd have been in for over 2 years. And that would have been totally unfair to her mind.

Even this short imprisonment was nearly unbearable. What was worse, was the knowledge that after her few months here, she was to be transferred to a high-security mental hospital for treatment of her "disorder". She didn't have a disorder, dammit, unless the stupid bitch of a court-appointed shrink invented one for her.

Schizophrenia. Like she had that problem. She'd argued that she didn't have multiple personalities, and was informed that schizophrenia was not Dissociative Identity Disorder. She had shown time and again that her understanding of events was disordered. In other words, she'd lost touch with reality, especially in the case of Samantha Walking Tall.

She'd asked the judge why she'd be sent to prison if she was crazy, and not just be allowed to go immediately to her treatment, and he'd shot her a disbelieving look. _"You're going to do your time for your crimes, Miss Jordan. I'm allowing you to run your sentences concurrently so that you may hasten to your mental help. However, if you had listened closely, as you were advised to do, you would have heard that you will meet with a mental health professional daily. During this time, I hope you can prove yourself to not be a danger to others with your tongue, and that you show a willingness to change. For once you are forcibly committed to an institution by this court, your time there is at the mercy of the doctors. If you do not show yourself to be improved, you will not be released." He had then cleared his throat. "You have been found to be mentally competent to stand trial, and as such, you are mentally competent to receive your sentence. And so it stands. Court is adjurned."_

She still flinched as she thought of the gavel banging three times after he'd said that. It was final, and with the exception of an appeal, which would take longer than her sentence, she was without hope. No more chances at freedom, she was meeting her fate. And it sucked.

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Sam sat with brochures and listing booklets before her. In the DC area, most of the farms were historic sites, and even if she bought one, the only "farming" that could be done would be the tourist attraction Colonial type. She sighed and pushed another paper out of the way. So she'd need to widen her search.

Stillwater was a little too far, for while she loved Jack's company, she didn't want to be that far from the main hub of her friend base. She scoffed to herself. Truth be told, she didn't want to be that far from her current housemate. They were just friends, and she knew it would never progress beyond that point, and that thought was comforting in one way, but maddening in another.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was moody, often silent, more often grouchy after work, he was messy now that he had someone else to clean for him, and yet she knew, even with all of that driving her up a wall some days, that she'd miss him when she was out on her own. They'd grown comfortable with one another, and that was something she'd forgotten since Ellis' death. She'd forgotten how comforting it was to know there was someone else in the house. How nice it was to set the table for two. Or ten, depending on who was coming for dinner.

Going back to life on her own was something that she was secretly dreading. She'd gotten used to the noise and fun of the team on their rare weekends off, or their dinners when they were able to get out of work at a reasonable hour. None of them seemed to mind that they spent all day together working and sometimes arguing with one another over ideas and leads when it came time to play. The office stayed in the navy yard, and their friendships took over.

She looked down at one farm and sighed. It was perfect, but unless she was about to be a multi-millionaire, she knew she'd never be able to afford it. It had been a thoroughbred farm, and the man had been nearly frantic regarding security. The fence surrounding the property was 10 feet high chain-link, cameras were set on some of the posts, giving a full view of the property from within the house.

That was a feature that she liked better than the barns or the house. After her experiences in _Hades_, as she had come to call her former town, she wanted to install a tight security system. She kept that flyer, intending to look at the property solely for what she could use in her real farm. With a sigh, she put the colorful paper on a pile she'd designated "dream homes".

If only she knew her budget. Christopher had told her to not worry, that she'd be well-off, but that didn't tell her much. She'd considered herself well-off before. Would well-off mean a small farm with a large mortgage, or a huge one she paid for in cash? He'd simply smiled and told her to not worry, that the final trial was only days away, and that he'd tell her the sum of her settlements.

She was tired of waiting. She'd waited for court dates, she'd waited for help, she'd waited to be attacked just one more time, she'd waited for Ellis to pass, knowing it was going to happen, she'd waited for him to come home, and she'd waited for her father to be kind even once, losing her hope of that with his death. Whoever said that prolonged hope held a wonderful delight at the end had apparently never really lived.


	70. Chapter 70

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger, as always, for her amazing betaing! Love you! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: I am not a legal pro, nor do I have experience, but I looked stuff up online. Lol So don't blame me for the numbers at the end of the chapter! *giggles* Well, you can, as I wrote this, but you know how the internet is…. lol

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Mary sat and watched as the medications slowly dripped into her arm via I.V. It seemed so strange that what was basically poison would bring her health once again. When her doctor had first told her that the test results showed cancer, she'd argued with him. He had to be wrong.

Yet here she sat, a mere 10 weeks later, receiving the second of 20 chemotherapy treatments. Her hair hadn't yet fallen out, but she was sure it was going to soon. In preparation, she'd gotten a book to read to her daughters about a woman who got sick, lost her hair, yet was fine in the end.

The girls had had dozens of questions, everything from why she was sick to if they could shave their heads when she lost her hair. She'd smiled at them, telling them once again the importance of hair. The girls had listened quietly as their mother told them of how women grew their hair to honor their fathers, and men grew their hair to honor their mothers.

"So the best thing we can do is keep our hair long?" Amy fingered her braided pig-tails as she spoke.

"Yes," Mary kissed her forehead. "Keep your hair long. Even if your daddy could be rotten sometimes, you should honor him."

"An' Jo'pheph gotta keeps hims haiw long fo you!" Acheflow had bounced on her knees, excited that she'd finally figured out her brothers' pretty hair. It was so long, but he'd not let her put flowers and beads in it. She'd never understood why he wanted pretty hair without pretty things in it.

The memory of that evening brought a smile to Mary's face. It turned to a frown, however, as she thought of her son. How he'd gotten to be so controlling, Mary'd never know.

He told her to sit, that he'd make dinner, even when she felt good enough to do it. He did all of the shopping, often bringing home generic brands instead of the name brands she'd come to prefer. They weren't poor. She'd worked, and since Vernon had left, she'd managed to save some money. He needed to stop acting like they were going to the poor house.

Joseph told her again and again that he wanted to take care of her. That he wanted to help as much as he could. She could see through his little game. He wanted to remind her that she's not Sam. He's always wanting to call Sam. Call Sam and have her come so he could work. Call Sam so she can help. Call Sam. The perfect Sam. Yes, the woman had been good for her brother, but he was gone, and now she just needed to butt out. Even hundreds of miles away, she was interfering in their family.

Her son had even tried to convince her that he'd not known Sam and Ellis had sent money when he was a child. She knew better. He got to spend summers with his An' Sam, and Mary found it hard to believe that Sam had never told Joseph about his father's inability to provide for them. His hero worship had only gotten worse the older he grew. Now, he was practically the woman's one-man cheering section. And Mary wasn't sure who she was angrier at. Vernon, for opening the door to the whole mess, Joseph for falling for Sam's supposed generosity even after Ellis' death, or at Sam for being the whole problem.

Another hour passed with thoughts of what she'd like to do for a celebration when she was done with chemotherapy and radiation. She thought of a special dinner for just she and the girls, but then thought that people may think she was shutting Joseph out. It was bad enough that her father thought the same thing. With a heavy sigh, she realized that no one would or could understand her predicament. Either she put up with her son and pleased everyone around her, or she pushed him away and dealt with their censure. Some days, there just was no good solution.

##########################################

Sam felt her new sense of frustration when she hung up from her weekly call with Joseph. She could sense that there was something wrong, but he was refusing to say what. Even calls to John Quincy and Doris resulted in no answers beyond, "It's not our place to say anything". When she'd asked why he wouldn't talk, he said the same thing. Which left Mary. Was she still sick? So far, the woman had refused to talk to her, as if she was afraid she'd say something out of turn.

Gibbs shook his head as she walked silently past him. He'd heard her part of the conversation, and wasn't happy with it. He'd gotten the same responses when he'd tried to get the young man to talk to him only a few days ago.

Joseph had admitted to needing cash, but even that had come after a near threat. Apparently Mary wasn't getting hours at work, and the money Joseph had saved was almost gone, and he'd not been able to find a job yet that would allow him to be home in the evenings after school.

Why he needed to be home was a mystery, and it had come with no good answers. Gibbs debated sharing that much with Sam, afraid that if he told her as much, that she'd be on the next plane out, and he wasn't sure she was safe to be without an escort yet. Perhaps it was his own paranoia regarding her, or maybe it was his gut. Recently, the two had been so similar he couldn't tell the feelings apart.

It frustrated him to no end that he couldn't figure her out. Or what she meant to him. And then he wondered why it mattered what she meant to him. He'd come a long way in the last two years in his journey of healing. He rarely dreamed of his girls, and when he did, he wasn't angry and sorrowful all day. He'd learned to find joy in their memory, and he'd realized somewhere along the way that he could move on without forgetting them.

His question was now focused on Sam. Was she the one? Or was he "falling" for her simply because he'd gotten to know her? Was he having thoughts of pleasing her simply because she'd helped him find healing, or was he really wanting to love her? Another cup of coffee poured into his mug before he trotted down to his basement to spend some time with his boat.

##############################################

Joseph sat with his head in his hands. Once again, his mom had come home from her bi-weekly treatment so tired and sick that she'd gone straight to bed. He'd made dinner, gotten the girls to bed, and had checked on her. Their usual conversation ensued. If only he could find a way to change things.

"_How are the girls?"_

"_They're fine, Mom. Fed, bathed, and in bed already."_

"_Thanks." Mary moved under her covers slowly. "Did you eat?"_

"_A little." He shrugged. He knew from recent experience that she'd not understand if he told her there wasn't enough for him to eat if he was to save any for her. She didn't seem to realize that her bank account was emptying faster than he could fill it with his part-time minimum wage job. "You hungry? You should eat something."_

"_Not really."_

"_I made soup and sandwiches. I can bring you some broth and a bit of toast."_

"_That'd be fine." They sat in silence for a bit. "Do you need help with anything?"_

"_Sometimes." He shrugged. "It'd be nice to have a spare set of hands so I could work full-time. That would help."_

"_You could call Grandma."_

"_She was here yesterday, and today she needed to go shopping. That wears her out, so I told her to rest."_

"_There you go, controlling everyone again. You won't let me get up and help, even when I feel better, you won't let your Grandma come. No, all you want is for your beloved An' Sam to come." Mary nearly spat her words at him._

"_Mom, I'm not trying to control you! Really! Your hands shake when you do things, and you get tired so easily. I want you to rest. That's what the doctor said you needed! Rest. Remember?"_

"_I remember what the doctor said!" Mary quieted for a moment. "He said I'm sick, and that I may die. But I'm not dead yet. So stop acting like I am. Now get out of here. I want to sleep."_

_He bent to kiss her cheek, but she moved her head away. With a sigh, he adjusted her covers and left._

He wiped an angry tear from his face as he ate his half a sandwich with a cup of tepid broth. He wanted to show his mother so badly that he loved her, but it seemed that the more he tried, the worse their relationship got. She needed to rest, so he had her stay in bed or in her rocker. She misconstrued that as control. He knew she wasn't strong enough to cook. The last time she'd tried, she'd not even been able to cut through a carrot. So he cooked, and she took his care to mean that he thought she wasn't a good enough cook for him.

He'd taken dinner in to her tonight after she'd asked him to leave, only to have her get angry that he'd disobeyed. She wanted to be left alone, and that included no dinner. Some days, it was as if he could do nothing right.

The thing he felt the worst about was his promise to not tell An' Sam. He hated waiting for his mom to tell her. He worried that she never would, and with the way things were going, she'd die before Sam knew Mary was even sick.

He'd admitted to Gibbs that they were short on cash, and he knew that the man would eventually ask questions. His decision to tell Gibbs that much was as close as he could get to breaking his promise without ripping it to absolute shreds. Of course, he was toeing the line so close, he wasn't sure if he hadn't broken his promise already. Then again, he'd not told An' Sam, and he'd not said that Mary was sick. Perhaps he'd stayed with his bond after all.

###############################################

"Hey, Gibbs?" Sam stood at the top of the basement stairs. He just nodded in response. "Christopher called, and he wants me to come to his office to discuss the settlements earlier than planned. He's got everything ready, and I need to sign papers and stuff."

"Stuff, huh?" Sam shrugged.

"I don't know what all."

"So what do you need?"

"I'm nervous. Can you go with me?" Gibbs smirked.

"I'm covered in saw dust."

"So go take a shower." He looked up to see her smiling. "I know we talked about Abby going with me later, but I want you there."

"Fine. Give me just a bit."

"We don't need to leave for about an hour. You've got time."

"Thanks." He watched as she shut the basement door again. He sanded for a few more minutes before heading up to shower and change.

He knew that she'd be going today, but had originally requested to go with Abby so he could have the time free. He'd agreed somewhat begrudgingly, even if he did understand that she was just trying to let him have his first free day in nearly a month. So this change of heart was a relief to him. He frankly worried about her safety to and from the meeting, as she was getting nervous and jittery days in advance. There were no outside forces that were dangerous remaining, but the very fact that her emotions had been bouncing had him concerned.

Once they were in the car, conversation began again.

"So, Sam, what's got you so worked up?"

"This whole thing, Jethro." She bit her lip. "Christopher says I'll be set financially, but I have no idea what he means by that." Gibbs smirked. His little country bumpkin hadn't gotten lost in the city, after all. "I mean, will I be able to buy a house? Or a farm, or what size can I get? Will I be able to find a job? Will I need to? I mean, I know I'll have to work sooner or later, but will I have time to get settled in a house before I have to start going to work every day?"

"For starters, I don't think you'll have to worry about working for a long time, if ever. And I think you'll be able to get any house you set your mind on."

"Yeah, but what about the mortgage? I mean, I have no idea what he asked for settlements from the networks and newspapers that settled. What if I've got just enough to buy a small house, and need to really have a job in the next few weeks to make the bills?"

"Stop worrying." Gibbs chuckled. "I pretty much guarantee that he's gonna just blow you out of the water with what he tells you today. He worked hard for you, and that's not going to mean pennies."

"You're right, ok." Sam took a deep breath. "You're right. I need to calm down." A few deep breaths later, and she was somewhat relaxed. She was far from her usual calm self, but she was no longer radiating near panic.

Christopher smiled as he met them at the conference room his assistant had shown them to.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Walking Tall, Director."

"Hi." Sam smiled.

"Good to see you, Southerland." Gibbs smiled pleasantly, unable to resist the chance to tease Sam. "It'll be good to get this over with. She's been a wreck for days."

"Gibbs." Sam shot him a dark look. "I'm nervous enough without you making fun of me."

"I'm not making fun." Her eyebrow quirked. "I'm laughing with you. You just didn't get the joke yet."

Christopher smiled and motioned for them to sit with him.

"So, Sam, we've got a few figures here for you, and I want you to understand that these will all be paid with yearly payments, so it's not going to be one lump sum." Sam's heart fell, but she nodded, letting him continue. "My firm would like to continue being your primary legal representation, and I have a list of good financial professionals who can help you make decisions and make them with the best information on taxes, investments, those sorts of things."

"Sounds good." She sounded confused.

"You have a question?"

"Probably a bunch, but how about you finish first. I'm just going to listen and try to figure it all out."

"Ok." Chris chuckled quietly. He and Gibbs shared a glance, both understanding that Sam had no concept for the amount she was about to hear.

"I've taken the liberty of breaking everything down for you in this folder, which I'll be sending with you. It has a detailed list of all settlements, their payment arrangements, and the sum of their first payment will be at least 20% of their total settlement."

"Ok." Sam nodded, still not clear on why the payments couldn't all come at once. That would be easier.

"Your first lump payment will be directly deposited into your bank account after you've signed the papers allowing my firm to transfer the funds." He cleared his throat and slid a paper across the table. "I'll need you to initial here, and here, sign here, date goes here, and Director, if you wouldn't mind witnessing? I'll have our notary come in and make it all official."

Sam looked at the paper, not bothering to check the bottom before she started to initial and sign as instructed. Once she finished, she looked at the amount, almost as if she'd been afraid to do so before. Her eyes narrowed, and then widened. The notary stepped in, not wanting to miss the woman's reaction. Everyone in the firm had gotten to know Sam, and she was a favorite among them, being one of their few clients who were not demanding in any way.

"I think there's a mistake here." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"No mistake, Sam." Christopher smiled. "The lump sum of your settlement from all 14 networks, 35 newspaper companies, their reporters and newscasters alone is just under $550,000,000.00. Of course, when we add in the settlements from Carol, Phyllis, and your former neighbors, there is another $450,000.00, but that's small change compared to this.

"Each of the networks and newspapers that settled out of court offered between $10 to $20,000,000.00, so by the time they all added together, you have a lump sum that will keep you very nicely. You will be able to leave wonderful inheritances for your nephew and nieces, and will have no trouble purchasing a new farm to start your new future on." He smiled broadly.

Sam started to shake slightly, and Gibbs asked if she was ok. With a slight nod, she said that she was, but that she needed a moment. Standing on shaky legs, Sam headed to the door, only to collapse just before reaching for the handle.


	71. Chapter 71

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to my fabulous beta, Headbanger Rockstar, who has kept me writing on days when my fingers have done weird things and encouraged me when my brain refused to work. I love you! !

Note: Thanks everyone for your prayers! They've been needed, and will still be needed. I think we have the final piece of the puzzle, which is both a relief and a frustration. Lol If you want to know, I'll tell you in a PM, otherwise, I'll not bore you. Lol Thanks to everyone who's been reading!

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Gibbs watched as Sam stood from the table. He considered for a moment asking if she'd like his company, but quickly decided that this time she really did mean "a moment alone". Her shakiness had him concerned, and the sheen of a cold sweat had him worried that she'd gone into a state of shock. He should have prepared her better. How, he wasn't sure.

Moments later, he regretted his decision. He saw her get shakier, but before he could rise to his feet, she was tumbling to the ground. Without conscious thought, he was on his knees by her in seconds, his phone out as he phoned Ducky. Christopher had already dialed for an ambulance, and the notary, after a nod from Christopher, was on her way down to wait and direct them to the correct room.

Gibbs heard Ducky's pleasant brogue and started speaking before the other man finished his greeting of "Mallard residence." The older ME listened to his friend, frightened at the fear in Gibbs' voice. The man was usually calm, even in the face of danger and death, yet now his voice shook and the tension he felt at the moment radiated through the phone.

"Of course, Jethro, I'll meet you at whichever hospital they take her to. Just let me know where you are headed."

Gibbs knew that with her being newly out of NCIS protection and civilian, Bethesda wasn't an option, and it chaffed him a bit. He hoped the doctors would at least be competent where they were taking her. While it was only moments, it seemed hours to Gibbs as he tried to rouse Sam. When she finally opened her eyes and looked around in confusion, Gibbs felt relief course though him.

"Welcome back." His voice was quiet, as if afraid that sound would hurt her.

Sam looked confused for a moment. "Why do you look so worried? I'm just on my way to the restroom."

"You passed out on us." He helped her sit up after a moment.

"Oh, shit."

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Gibbs chaffed and mumbled to himself the entire way to the hospital as he flew behind the ambulance. Not only was she panicking about having fallen, but they wouldn't let him ride with her, as he wasn't a relative. His teeth ground as he clenched them tightly. He was glad he'd not taken Abby with them, as the young woman would be just as worried…only she'd add volume.

_Abby. Shit._ They'd forgotten to call her before they left. She'd have gotten to their house nearly an hour ago, and both he and Sam had turned their phones off. He hurriedly dialed her number, hoping she'd still be at the house.

"Abby Scuito, scientist extraordinaire and puzzled friend."

"Hey, Abbs. Sam got called in to the lawyers early, and we forgot to call."

"Ok, that explains the turned off phones, and your irate detail. Tony tried to call, and when you didn't answer on any of your phones and you weren't here, he called Paul, and found out that you didn't call him, either. So, they're kinda pissed."

"Fine." He interrupted her. "Can you meet us at Providence Hospital?"

"Hospital? Who's needing a hospital? What happened?" Paul nodded to Frank and the pair led the way out to their suburban.

"Sam passed out. She's conscious, but we're gonna make sure there's nothing wrong."

"Of course there's something wrong if she passed out, Gibbs. She doesn't do that."

"Not helping, Abbs." Before she could respond, he clicked his phone shut.

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Joseph had consulted with his grandparents, and in an effort to break through his mothers' depression and seeming hatred of him, he called her pastor to come visit. Pastor Dave was a young man, recently "called" to the native peoples, and he'd chosen their town to settle in. Missionaries weren't anything new. Some were good, some were bad, and some were friends. Joseph could see this young man turning into a friend.

Pastor Dave didn't come with the ideas of some of the older ones who thought that Indians were merely drunks, or that they were lazy. He saw a rich culture thriving in a poor environment and had a true love for the people. He was learning quickly, and Joseph had enjoyed the few conversations he'd had with the man.

His mom had started taking the girls to church as a way to keep them from following in their fathers' footsteps. Acheflow had gotten into his beer and had drunk about half of a can, grimacing the entire time, determined that she'd learn to like what her daddy liked. After a Saturday ruined with an upset tummy and an aching head, Mary loaded the girls up and visited the new missionary's service. He'd been friendly, and she'd made sure the girls were there every week after.

"Pastor Dave." The man's jovial voice rang through the line.

"Hi, Pastor Dave." Joseph's voice was flat with exhaustion and sorrow. "Can I talk to you? This is Joseph Yellow Hand."

"Sure, how's your Mom?"

"She's having a hard time." Joseph was quiet for a moment.

"You calling to talk about her, huh?"

"Yeah." Pastor Dave waited while Joseph gathered his thoughts once again. "I'm not sure what to do." And with that sentence, Joseph began to tell the man what his family had been through, and how Mary was dealing with things now.

"Give me about 20 minutes, and I'll be over to visit with her, ok?"

"You sure? It's late on a Saturday."

"Of course I'm sure! You called, and if I'm not willing to talk when people call, I have no business telling everyone to call when they need to!"

"True." Joseph smiled, sensing his coming relief. "I'll see you soon."

Amy woke Mary up for her late dinner and evening pills. Mary grumbled, especially when informed by the girl that Pastor Dave was coming. Her daughters needed church, she didn't.

"Why's he coming?"

"Joseph asked him to." Amy smiled. "And he's coming right over to make sure you're ok!"

"I doubt that's why he's coming over." Mary scowled. "I'll bet your brother has been telling him all sorts of lies."

"No, he hasn't, Mommy." Amy stood up for her brother. "I was helping him in the kitchen while he was talking. He was respectful, and he's worried about you. That's why Pastor Dave is coming. Why do you have to be so mean to him?" With that, her daughter stomped out of the room.

Mary scoffed at her daughters' outburst, rolling her eyes as she pushed aside any thoughts that she'd been mistreating her son. The boy was in danger of becoming his father, and it was her job to ensure that he stayed on the straight and narrow. If her tongue needed to be sharp, then so be it.

Joseph popped his head in several minutes later.

"I've brought dinner and the pastor."

"Fine." Mary finished sitting up and adjusted her covers so he could put her tray over her lap. Pastor Dave witnessed from the hall the silent hostility radiating from the woman, and thought on how best to approach her.

As he entered the room, it was as if Mary flipped a switch. She became a cheerful, pleasant person, not at all the surly, growling woman of mere seconds before. The pastor had been worried that the girls were being accurate with their description of their "Cranky Mommy", and he felt bad that he'd not come to visit them sooner.

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Sam rolled her eyes as the nurse once checked her blood pressure once again. The numbers were still a little high, but they weren't terrible. And given Gibbs grumbling and pacing, she was a little surprised they weren't higher.

"Jethro, sit down. Ducky's trying to spring me, and you know that nothing's really wrong, so just calm down."

"You passed out, Sam."

"Yeah. I think that if our situations were reversed, you'd have done the same thing."

"So then you'd get my pacing."

"No." She smirked. "I'd be smart enough to sit and conserve my energy for the evening. You know the house is going to be party central, don't you?"

"Party central? I think you're spending too much time with Abby." Gibbs argument held amusement as he sat, silently acknowledging she was right.

"What can I say? I've got Tony to introduce me to movies, Abby to spend time with just being girls, Ziva to cook with, and Tim to annoy. I'm becoming downright civilized and modern." Gibbs smirked, trying to find a good comeback as Ducky came into the room.

"Well, my dear, the doctor is writing up your discharge papers, and one of the nurses will be in soon to give you your instructions."

"Oh, good." She rolled her eyes in Gibbs' direction. "He's stressing."

"I should think so, my dear. He's protected you, only to watch you fall before his very eyes."

"Yeah. Pass out, not shot, not stabbed. Just…overwhelmed."

"And what was it that finally got to our brave Sam?"

"I got my settlement numbers, and they were way more than I was expecting."

"Ah." The elderly doctor nodded. "May I ask?"

"Sure. It'll probably be on the evening news, anyway." She laughed. "And I'll have more long lost relatives than I'll know what to do with."

"Why say that?"

"You know what they say about lottery winners. They suddenly have best friends from 30 years ago and relatives they've never heard of camping out. "

"Yeah? Let 'em try. I'll hand you my gun." Sam laughed.

"No thanks. What good would $550,000,000.00 do for me in prison?"

"That is quite a settlement, Sam." Ducky smiled.

"It'll buy a new life, that's for sure." She smiled back. "I can't even comprehend that much. Not really. I mean, I can see the zero's on the page, but it's not clicking."

"Give it time, my dear. I assume you have retained an accountant and legal help to deal with it?"

"I'm keeping Christopher as my council. As to an accountant, I'll probably ask him to help me find one."

"He's done wonderfully for you thus far, so I'd trust his judgment."

##########################################

Joseph sat at the table, not knowing what to do while the preacher was in with his mom. The dishes were done, the girls were playing quietly, and he didn't even have a new book to read. So he sat, staring at the door, wondering what was being said.

He wondered if his mom was trying to paint this cruel picture of him, and if he'd have to defend himself to the man, or if the guy could see through the show. He hoped it was the latter. Anymore, however, he'd learned to not hope in anything too much. An' Sam was still the one constant in his life, and Uncle Gibbs was becoming a rock solid second, but without being able to talk to them, he felt adrift.

The door opened, and he stood, unsure of what he should do. How does someone end a visit like this? Should he shake the man's hand and show him the door, or ask if he wants coffee? An easy smile from the pastor helped him make his choice.

"Coffee?"

"Please." Pastor Dave smiled as he sat. "Thanks for calling me here today."

"Sure." Joseph shrugged. "Not sure if I should have. Thanks for coming."

"It's part of my job, and my purpose here. If I'm going to sit in the church and just wait, well, what good does that do?"

"That's what every other missionary has done. Or they've shown up to tell us how evil we are." Dave hung his head for a moment.

"I've heard some stories, and I'm sorry that people have behaved like that. I believe that Jesus would be upset if I were to do that. After all, he's the one who wrote in the sand to send away the religious hypocrites who would have stoned the," he held up his hands, "sinner" that they themselves trapped with one of their own."

"Oh? So you're not going to tell me all the things I'm doing wrong? Including the broken record of it's a sin for a man to have long hair?"

"No." Pastor Dave smiled. "The Bible says it's a shame for a man to have long hair, not that it's a sin. And the long hair in that culture denoted a life of prostitution. Very different reasons and intentions from your culture."

"So what will you tell me?" Joseph handed the young pastor a cup of coffee as he sat. Pastor Dave thought for a moment before nodding to himself, as if reaching some great conclusion.

"I'm going to tell you that you're doing so many things right, and your mom doesn't seem to understand how wonderful of a son she has."

Joseph sat back, a mildly disbelieving glint in his eyes. "Are you serious? You're not going to tell me to straighten up? That I'm being controlling?"

"No." Dave sat back as well. "Let me tell you a bit about my past."

"I'm listening."

"My mom was an alcoholic. She didn't want kids, didn't want to be burdened, didn't want to have to work. Really, she didn't want to do anything but drink. I spent my childhood trying to make her happy. I'd recycle cans to bring home quarters, just convinced that a handful of coins would change our lives. When I got old enough, I got a paper route. I'd wake up every morning and throw those papers. Every Friday, I'd give her my paycheck, knowing we'd have food and maybe she'd be happy.

"Nothing ever changed. All through middle school, I threw papers. When I got into high school, I kept my paper route and added an after school job. Can you guess what happened?"

"Probably the same thing as my dad. Nothing changed."

"Exactly." Pastor Dave nodded. "I learned from a very wise teacher that I couldn't make decisions for my mom. I couldn't make her stop drinking, I couldn't make her stop being angry, and I couldn't make her stop hurting. I _could_ prepare for my own life as an adult, or I could keep enabling her to drink."

"Let me guess, you moved out, kept your cash and never looked back?"

"No. I stayed at home, but I started to keep my money. If we needed groceries, I went to the store. I didn't give her the money to spend on alcohol. If we needed a bill paid, I paid it, and didn't give her the money. I did what I could, and still, she wasn't happy. There are some people who _choose_, got that? Choose to be unhappy or ungrateful. You can't do anything to change them."

"And right now, my mom is one of those people? Nothing I do is good enough."

"Yes, right now, with your dad leaving, and finding out that she's got cancer, and taking chemo, she's under stress, and isn't seeing things clearly. Stress can do that to people."

"So I just gotta deal with it?"

"Nope. You need to take care of yourself right now. Your mom needs you strong. And your sisters need you strong. Do you feel strong right now?"

"No." Joseph frowned. "I feel lost. Like I don't know what to do."

"And what or who do you talk to when you feel this way?"

"My An' Sam."

"So, since there's no way to make your mom happy right now, and you need to be strong for your mom and sisters, and you need to get strength that's being drawn from you every day, what do you think you should do?"

"Well, seeing as you're a pastor, I guess I should say pray."

"And I'd have to agree with that. But I know you don't yet believe in my savior, so it would be unfair of me to demand something else of you right now that you're not comfortable with."

"Fair enough. So what do I do?"

"Call your An' Sam. Talk to her. Be open, honest, and let her know what's going on. If she is your pillar of strength, don't let your mom rob you of her. That's my suggestion."

"Thanks, Pastor." The young missionary smiled over at the tall youth sitting across from him.

"Of course, that's why I'm here." He pulled out a small notebook. "Now. What can we do for you? I've got a few ladies who are willing to come once or twice a week to clean, we've got a food pantry started, and I've heard from your sisters on Sunday that you're not a great cook." He chuckled. "We'll start with food. Can I have someone bring dinner over at least once a week?"

##################################################

Howard drove past the state line with a smile on his face. Beside him sat Veronica, the Migrant he'd talked into "going home" with him. He hadn't specified where home was, only that she'd never need to worry about working again. Promises of wealth and a few extra dollars spread around for a shopping trip for her new outfit had the woman completely snowed.

As he drove, he thought back on the states he'd been through already. Twelve, soon to be thirteen, meant a total thus far of twenty-four useless people the world had gotten rid of. Veronica ran her hand over his thigh and he raised it to his lips, kissing her worn hand. He winked, knowing that what she took as a sign of affection was his way of containing his mirth at having his twenty-fifth victim at his sexual whim.

He'd had her alone for a week now, supposedly sight-seeing before they reached his home. She had no clue that he was slowly purchasing the things that would be used to cause her death. Latex gloves, duct tape, a filet knife, and a camcorder joined their belongings, all with explanations for their purchase.

Howard was tired of Veronica's giddy chatter, her attempts at seduction, and most of all, her need to shoplift. If one thing would lead to his capture, he didn't want it to be her itchy fingers. So tonight, he'd take care of his little problem.

He had a rough knowledge of fingerprint and DNA databases, and was fairly certain he didn't have his prints or cells in storage somewhere. For that, he was grateful. Veronica giggled as they pulled into another hotel for the night. He went inside and paid cash, using a forged ID to register.

Veronica bounced at his side as he carried their bags inside for the night. The old man behind the counter shook his head and went back to his show. He'd seen more cloth on Barbie dolls than that girl was wearing. No wonder that young man had been in a hurry and not into answering questions.

Howard shut the door behind them and locked the door on their little bungalow. He was thrilled to find that the "motor lodge" had six little shanty-like structures that served for their rooms. Even more thrilling was the knowledge that they had the shanty furthest from the office. He could kill her, clean up, and be on his way before sunrise, and no one would know she was still in the room until the maid came to clean. He stretched and smiled as she put their take-out dinner down on the table in the tiny kitchenette.

Two large bottles of tequila and a case of beer were the next things carried in. He had plans for all of that alcohol, and she'd have her fill…for as long as she lived.

#########################################

Sam was finally on her way home, feeling rather ridiculous as she was escorted out by Ducky, Gibbs, and Abby, who had already called the others and told them to just wait. Of course, she'd thrown in directions for Tony to run to the store for comfort foods, Tim was asked to have the teapot ready and waiting, and Ziva had orders to make sure Sam's bed was remade since she'd washed her bedding before heading to the lawyers office.

Gibbs drove carefully, which had Sam chuckling at him.

"You can drive faster, you know."

"Don't want to scare you any more than you already are."

"There's a difference between overwhelmed and scared, Jethro. I'm fine. Just need a day or two to wrap my brain around this." She fumbled for her phone as she heard it ring. "Hello, this is Sam." Gibbs smiled at her way of answering her phone.

"Hi, An' Sam. Can you talk?"

"Joseph, when have I ever not had time for you?"

Gibbs slowed the car further, wanting to give them time to talk. When he heard her suck in her breath, he glanced over, surprised to see tears running down her face. He reached over, offering his hand, and she took it, holding it as they pulled into their driveway.

"How long as she been sick, Joseph?" Gibbs leaned over so he could hear what was being said, making his shoulder totally available in the process. Sam leaned against him, taking the comfort he offered.

"_About three months. She's halfway done with her first round of chemo."_

"Sweetie, that's how long you've been so secretive."

"_She asked me to keep quiet. Said you've got too much going on yourself."_

"Bull. Nothing is more important than family. I'll be on my way…"

"_No! Don't come." _Joseph sounded panicked. _"She doesn't know I'm calling you. I'm not supposed to."_

Gibbs sighed. Sam had had a wonderful and yet stressful day, and now this. He saw the door open and rolled his eyes. She'd need time, and his house was full of well-wishers who wanted to celebrate.

Sam had seen the movement as well, and while she made no move to end her call with her nephew, she started to school her features. With Gibbs, she could cry, with the group, she'd not dampen their spirits. He decided then that he'd get a few minutes if it killed him.

Several minutes passed, in which Sam got information, such as what bank they'd been using, and his account number. She said she'd send money, and that she'd be there as soon as he was ready to get his mom to agree. Gibbs talked with him a moment, letting the younger man know he was proud of him for helping his family while expressing his desire to not be kept in the dark in the future.

"It's too hard to live that way, son. Don't do it."

"Ok, Uncle Gibbs." Joseph sniffled. A crash sounded behind Joseph. "I gotta go. The girls are in to something."

"Love ya, kiddo." Gibbs snapped the phone shut. "You ok?" Sam shook her head. "Basement?" With a nod from her, he led her to the house. Questions and congratulations were silenced with a stern look from Gibbs, Ducky himself motioning for the younger crew to follow him into the living room. He'd seen the tears in Sam's eyes, and had seen Gibbs' furrowed brow. Something had happened, and most likely with Joseph.

Once downstairs, Gibbs poured a bit of bourbon into his cup and handed it to Sam. She took it with shaking fingers and gulped it down.

"More?"

"No." Her voice trembled. "She's dying, Jethro. And I can't be there."

"It's not certain that she'll die, Sam." Gibbs found his feet moving, and soon had her in a tight hug. She leaned against his chest, her hands curled against his shirt. "If she's in chemo, there's a chance."

"A chance." Sam scoffed. "She's in a low-rate hospital with low-rate care. Trust me, she doesn't have a chance."

"What can you do about it?"

"Nothing until she lets me help." She sighed, melting into him. She thought she felt a kiss press to her hair, but wasn't about to ask.

"Well, until then, be there for Joseph the best you can be. Send money, send anything you think will help."

"Can I stay here until I know for sure if I need to go there or if I'm gonna be looking for a house here?"

"You can stay forever as long as I'm concerned." He felt her chuckle.

"Forever is a long time, Gibbs, and unless you can fit a goat down here, I think I'll get bored after a while."

"True. I don't think the neighbors would enjoy a small herd in the back yard." He smirked and tightened his arms. "Seriously, though, stay as long as you need to. My house is yours."

"Thanks, Jethro. For everything." She pushed away to meet his eyes, and he took a chance.

His lips met hers for just a moment. There was nothing sensual about their kiss, there was nothing passionate, but they felt their connection grow. Sam backed away, her eyes meeting his, not sure of what to say or do. He was better than she'd ever hope to be, and deserved to have someone with him that was well educated and cultured. Her thoughts were cut short when he lowered his lips to hers once again, this time brushing his tongue softly against her. She tentatively responded, losing herself a heartbeat later in the love surrounding them.


	72. Chapter 72

Disclaimer: I still don't own it, despite my jumping up and down, throwing myself on the ground in a temper tantrum, and threatening to boycott the Olympics. My roommate just laughed and reminded me that we don't have Olympic coverage. Something about needing a TV… Lol

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar, as always, for her amazing job as my beta! Love you! Ptbbbbbb!

Note: Have you ever noticed that some directions tell you to warm things to "room temperature"? What exactly is room temperature? Is it 85 in the summer, or 65 in the winter, or somewhere between?

#################################

Joseph called his sisters to dinner, and sat down, ready to serve. The pastor had called a neighbor, and they were sitting down to a meal of breaded veal patties, apple sauce, spaghetti, and a salad. Not since his mom had been working and able to cook had the girls had such a wonderful meal. They'd been "surviving" on casseroles, beans, and fry bread for weeks.

"Did you learn to cook, Joseph?" Acheflow looked at the table with wide eyes.

"Nope, a lady from the church brought this." He smiled. "Mrs. Red Feather."

"Mrs. Red Feather? But she doesn't like it when we sing loud and play in church."

"Well, she must like you, because she even brought a cake for dessert." Amy's eyes lit up.

"Cake? What kind?"

"I didn't look. I'll take off the foil after we eat." As he spoke, he cut up a patty and split it between his two youngest sisters. Allie was just big enough to have a few bites of meat if they were small enough, but she'd do well with the applesauce and a bit of salad; she loved her vegetables, which had made it easy on Joseph. He diced her spaghetti into tiny pieces before handing her plate over. He was sure she'd eat with her fingers, anyway, but the little pieces would be safe for her tiny teeth.

Amy bit into her veal, her eyes crossing comically. "This is so good!" Acheflow dipped hers into her applesauce, smiling at the wonderful combined flavor.

"Look at me! I'm a good cook, too! I made a new recipe!"

"You sure did!" Joseph started eating his own dinner, deciding that he may stay for service on Sunday. The pastor had started to prove that he wasn't a phony. Joseph could stand listening to a good man speak. He owed the missionary that much, at least.

#####################################

Sam let herself go, leaning into the affection and love Gibbs offered. She met his tongue, dueling with it, tasting his coffee-flavor as they explored one another's mouths. Not since Ellis had she felt this peaceful or loved with someone. The thought that she wasn't worthy of him niggled in her mind, but she pushed it away, not willing to let reality crush the moment.

Reality was that she'd come to love him. She'd pushed the feeling aside, refusing to allow herself to acknowledge it. After all, she was just a friend, she was fun, she was a safe date to the dinners he took her to, as she wouldn't expect a curtain call or anything, and she was fine with that. But her heart had been aching for more.

This man was so different from Ellis, and yet his heart was the same. He loved, and he loved deeply. He was contentious of those in his life, and even on his "bastard" days, he wasn't all that bad. He just needed space and understanding. It was really a pity that none of his ex-wives had ever taken the time to understand him instead of trying to change him.

Her lower lip slipped into his mouth once again, and she became aware of a burning. She'd felt it moments before, but now it was more pronounced. Almost as if she'd been scratched with dozens of sharp little needles.

She slowly ended their kiss, not wanting to, but feeling like she had to. Her lips suddenly felt painful and sore, as if she'd been in a fog and not able to feel anything but pleasure. Gibbs chased her lips a bit, pressing tiny kisses to her, prolonging their connection.

"You ok?"

"Yeah." She blushed. "I felt like my lips were being scratched." Gibbs backed up a bit and chuckled.

"I guess my whiskers got ya. You're kinda red." His thumb smoothed over her painful lower lip. "You'll be ok. Just a bit sore. Never had whisker burn, huh? Didn't think of that."

"Hm." She leaned against him again. "Guess it's been a day of new experiences. Getting rich, passing out, whisker burn." He smirked.

"Guess so. I'll have to remember to shave more often."

Gibbs smiled as he watched her cheeks flame to a brighter red than they already were. He hoped her response meant that she felt the same as he did, and yet he knew that she'd likely not want someone as damaged as he was. His trail of broken marriages were testament to his emotional mess. But if he could be the one to make her blush like that every day, he'd gladly sign up.

"We should go upstairs." She looked up at him, accepting one final chaste kiss.

"You ready?"

"Think so. Of course, I won't really know until everyone is pelting me with questions."

"Ah, if they get out of hand, I'll be there with head-slaps."

"Just no concussions, Jethro. We don't need to go back to any hospitals today." His laughter rolled quietly through her, making her wish she could get him to laugh more often.

#########################################

"Think they're ok down there, Ducky? She was pretty pale when they came in. Should I go check on them?" Tony fairly bounced on the balls of his feet.

"No, my dear boy, I'd leave them for a few minutes. Sam has had a difficult yet exciting day, and judging by her appearance, the call that kept them outside when we arrived wasn't an easy one."

Minutes passed with the team pacing. Ducky and Palmer sat, only the younger man's foot jiggled constantly.

"Oh, come sit down, all of you." Ducky finally spoke up. "You're behaving like expectant fathers. Only I think they're calmer." Tim blushed as Ziva argued.

"Shh." Abby held up her hand. "I hear steps." The living room fell silent.

When Sam and Gibbs emerged from the basement, they expected noise, not the nearly tense silence that greeted them. Moments passed as Sam looked at her adopted family with wide eyes, wondering what was wrong. They looked back at her with the same wide-eyed expressions.

Abby finally broke the silence by walking to Sam and enveloping her in a tight hug.

"You ok? We're worried."

"I'm ok." Sam nodded, her expression still serious.

"May we ask what had you so upset? You were on the phone for quite a while, my dear." Another nod coupled with a deep breath.

"Joseph called, and his mom's sick. She's got cancer, and had made him promise to not say anything to me. It's just a blow after such a happy morning."

"What happened? Why did you end up in the hospital?" Palmer spoke up, and then shrank back, as if he'd spoken out of turn.

"I passed out, nothing major. I was just overwhelmed." She grinned, as if it was Christmas morning. "I've never thought of what I'd do with over $500,000,000.00 before." Congratulations came from the crew, and she was on the receiving end of hugs given almost quicker than she could recriprocate.

"Now that you've won the gold…" Tony mimicked a news reporter, "What will you do next?"

"I'm going upstairs to take a nap. I can barely keep my eyes open. I think my brain is exhausted."

"I'll go with you and help you get settled in." Abby shot a quick grin to Tony, who winked. They were both dying to know just what had happened in the basement. Sam and Gibbs with swollen lips and Sam with one heck of a whisker burn was too good to pass up.

Once they reached Sam's room, Abby flopped on down on her bed. "What are you going to do about Joseph and your family?"

"I don't know, Abby. I know I'll send money. I want to go, but I don't want to make it worse on Joseph, either." Sam sighed and lay back on her pillow. "I guess I'll call John Quincy and see what he has to say."

"Sounds good. You trust him a lot, huh?"

"He's proven himself time and again. He's a wonderful father-in-law."

"You're lucky to have him." Sam yawned while agreeing. Abby let her relax for just a moment before asking the question that had been plaguing her mind for the last half-hour.

"So, Sam." Abby's voice dripped with sweetness. "What were you and Gibbs up to down there, huh? Eyes are puffy, cheeks are red, which makes sense for crying, but then we add in the whisker burn and the puffy lips, and well, you're busted, lady."

Sam groaned and rolled over onto her side, facing Abby.

"Oh, I know." She grabbed Abby's hand. "I'm so…I don't know."

"What?"  
>"I don't know. Happy. Confused. Overwhelmed."<p>

"Ok, let's start with overwhelmed. What's that all about? So you got a settlement. So you can start life over. Don't focus on how much, just focus on getting yourself together. Pretend that money doesn't exist for you."

"Oh, that's easy for you to say."

"No, but I can imagine." Abby grinned. "Really, Sam, you're getting all worked up over this. Now is the time you should be celebrating and relaxing! You've got your future taken care of, you've got your bank account full, and you can help your family!"

"But it's so much money!"

"Forget the zeros. Pretend that three of them are gone. What would you do with $550,000.00?"

"Good question." Sam relaxed a bit. "Take everyone to dinner at a nice restaurant to celebrate and say thanks."

"Ok, so you've just spent about a thousand. What else?"

"Buy a car."

"You don't drive." Abby giggled.

"No, but I need to learn."

"Ooh, scary. Sam learning to drive from Gibbs or Ziva." Abby pretended to shudder.

"I know how to drive, goofball. I'm just afraid to do it in the city."

"Which is why someone will need to teach you."

"I guess you're right."

"Of course I am. I'm your Abby." Sam smirked and squeezed her hand again.

"Yes, you are, and thanks for being such a good friend."

"Of course! You're a good friend too, you know. Gibbs has actually been tolerable for a couple of months."

"Oops. I guess I'll have to cut his coffee ration here at home."

"You wouldn't dare."

"No, I value my life too much. I may threaten, but that's as far as I would dare go."

Abby sighed as if disheartened. "Even the mighty Sam bows to a growling Gibbs."

"The mighty Sam understands that she needs to have fingers if she intends to milk goats once again."

"Yeah." There was a pause, and Sam hoped her friend would let it go. However, she was talking with Abby. She just waited. "You kinda need those fingers to run through Gibbs' hair, too, huh?"

Another groan had Sam rolling onto her back, covering her head with her pillow.

"Nope, no hiding." Abby pulled, and Sam flopped the pillow down on her stomach.

"Fine. I don't know what happened, but we were kissing all of the sudden."

"And…did you like it?" Sam quirked an eyebrow and Abby laughed. "That's a yes!"

"Yes, I did. It was…nice."

"Nice? Oh, come on." Abby tapped her shoulder. "It had to be nicer than just nice. Out with it. You're betraying one of the key rules of the Universal Sisterhood of Women."

"The Universal Sisterhood of Women?" Sam started laughing.

"Yes. All women are sisters. Excluding bitches, of course. Now spill."

"Ok, fine. It was great. What else am I supposed to say? I really liked it, he's a great kisser, and there's no way it would ever work. So I can't let it happen again."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Abby sat up. "What do you mean, never work out? You guys are perfect together! You're more talkative, he's more quiet, you like to cook, he likes to eat, you understand that he needs his space, and you get his weird moods. What else is there?"

"Abby." Sam grumbled. "It's not that we don't get along. It's that he's someone. He needs someone who can stand by him. That's not me. We've gone to dinners, and to luncheons, and he's taken me to places that he's needed a "date", but he's got to have someone who is his, I don't know, equal."

"And you don't think you are?"

"No." Sam sounded disgusted with herself. "The other women talk about stuff I don't get at all. They complain about maids, and they discuss nannies and a million other household things I don't have any part of. Most of them are younger women married to much older men, and they've got these educations that they go on and on about. Doctorates, Master's Degrees, I don't think there's any one of them who've not spent at least 5 years in a college classroom."

"So?"  
>"So, they ask me what my education is, and what I've done for a living, and I have to tell them that I've got my high school diploma, and that I'm a currently retired farmer."<p>

"And they have a problem with that?" Sam snorted.

"Never in so many words. They just change the subject or switch languages. I don't need to understand them to know what their snotty looks and giggles are about." She sighed. "No, Abby, he needs someone who is a credit to him, and I'm not. If anything, I'm making him a laughing stock. Or they see me as there for sympathy. Like he feels bad that I'm stuck, so he's getting me out of the house from time to time."

"That's not it at all, Sam. If he wanted, he'd find someone else to take."

"I know that, just as much as you." Another sigh. "But they don't. And they're the ones who make or break him. He's in a position of trust and leadership. That means he's got to be respected. And I'm not respectable. I mean, I'm a good person, but I'm not good enough for the company his job requires him to keep."

"That's bullshit, Sam." Abby laid down once again, stroking Sam's hair. The older woman rolled onto her side.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore, ok? Just let it go?"

"'K." Abby curled up against Sam's back, resting with her until she was sure Sam was asleep.

##########################################

"Are you sure you would not like to be with the other men, Jimmy? You do not have to help me cook."

"No, it's ok." Palmer smiled at Ziva. "I'm fine in here."

"You are not still afraid of Gibbs, are you?" Ziva chuckled.

"Terrified, actually." Palmer stumbled to correct himself. "Well, not really terrified, but he's, you know, Gibbs. Fierce. Kinda makes me a little nervous."

"And the fact that I can kill you with a paperclip 18 different ways makes you comfortable?"

"Um, maybe you're right." Palmer shuffled his feet and pointed feebly over his shoulder. "I guess I'll go back in with the guys."

Ziva's laugh followed him from the kitchen. He could hear the low rumble of conversation in the living room, and heard Ducky say something that got Tony to hoot with laughter.

"So, Boss, what exactly did happen down there, Mr. Swollen Lips?" Tony's head flew forward with the mother of all head-slaps as Jimmy turned around for the kitchen. He didn't think Ziva would kill him. She liked him too much. However, one of Gibbs' "taps" may render him unconscious and knock the past four years of medical school out of his head. He'd take his chances with the paperclips.


	73. Chapter 73

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or anything associated with it. Maybe one day…maybe one day.

Author's note! Thanks to my amazing beta, Headbanger Rockstar! Love you!

Author's note: This story's rating will go up at the next chapter to M. This will be for mentions of drugs, violence, and a not-too-graphic murder. I just wanted to give everyone a warning. Thanks, everyone, for sticking with me and reading! I'm thrilled that you're still interested!

#############################

Sam sat upstairs for several minutes after she'd woken up. She dialed one number, hesitated before pressing send, and entered a new number. Five rings later, her mother in law answered their phone.

"Ya'hey."

"Ya'hey." Sam smiled as Doris began to chatter happily, yelling for John Quincy to come to the phone, as well as telling Sam how happy she was that she called.

"I'm glad to hear your voice, too, Mom. How's everything there? For real, not the story. I've talked with Joseph."

"Well, you know Mary." Doris sounded disgruntled. "She's still saying she's fine, and Joseph is doing his best, but he's just a boy himself."

"How sick is she really?"

"He says she's listed as terminal. But she seems determined to beat it."

"Is she fighting?"  
>"No. She's not even having a singer come."<p>

"Is she going to a doctor?"

"One of those Anglo doctors who doesn't believe he can help her much more? Yes, she's seeing several. And they seem to think she'll die no matter what they do."

"I'm coming out."

"She's not wanting you to know, Sam."

"She's family. If she decides she doesn't want to see me, then I'll stay out of her room. But Joseph and the girls need me. They're family, and I'm not going to sit here and let them suffer."

Doris sighed. "While I agree with you, I really do, I think you should talk to Dad first. He may have another option." Sam heard her mother-in-law call for her father and listened as she relayed Sam's desire to come out.

"Tell her we'll have the guest room ready." Sam heard the customary quick smooch her in-laws shared every time he went outside, even if he was only going to the mail-box. "Gonna take a walk." And he was gone.

"Well, I guess that's settled." Sam chuckled.

"That man of yours gonna make you bring a body guard again?"

"He's not my man, Mom, and I'll have to ask him. I think the danger's over now. So I should be fine on my own."

"Alright, just let us know."

"I will." Sam yawned. "Took a nap, and I'm ready for another."

"You're sleeping in the middle of the day? You sick?"

"No, just got tired, and the nice thing about not working is that I can sleep when I want to." Doris laughed.

"Of all the years Ellis tried to slow you down, and you finally learn to rest. It just takes losing everything to show you."

"Yeah, yeah. No need to rub it in." Sam was aiming for sarcasm, but she apparently missed, judging by the near-panic in the other woman's voice.

"I didn't mean it like that, Sam. Not at all. I only meant…"

"I know, Mom, and I'm not mad. Really. I was trying to tease back, and I guess I failed."

"It's just so hard, Sam. You've done so well, but you know Dad and I."

"Yeah, you worry, even if I say I'm ok." Sam smiled, grateful once again for her loving in-laws. "So, what else do you want to know? I hear a question rattling around in that head of yours."

"We heard on the news that you got a settlement. Will you have enough to buy a new home? Can you farm again? Will you be able to come out and still take care of your bills? We can help you with a ticket if you need us to."

"Oh, don't worry, Mom. I'll tell you the amount when I'm there, but I will tell you that I'm set for life. And all four kids can go to college with no more scrambling, and I can pay for Mary's medicines if she'll let me."

"Don't give so much that you don't have enough for yourself, Sam. I know you, and that generosity bone has been aching to exercise for a while. Don't overdo and find yourself without."

"I won't Mom, trust me. I can give and still have plenty left."

"You and Ellis always thought you didn't need much to survive." Doris sighed. "I guess you know what you need." Sam just laughed.

############################

"Come on, Abby." Tim wheedled his former girlfriend. "You've never kept a secret before."

"Excuse me?" She glared at him, and Tony snorted.

"You just stepped in it, Probie. Thanks. Now she'll not even tell me!"

"I wouldn't have told you anyway, Sweetie." She batted her eyes at Tony. "It's Sam's news, not mine."

The three MCRT agents groaned as Gibbs smirked. Ducky and he had been listening to the three friends beg Abby for nearly an hour, and the older men were amused at her clever comebacks and refusals to answer their queries.

The group heard footsteps above in the hall, and for a moment, the room fell silent. Then the steps turned back to Sam's room, and the door closed. A collective sigh went up, and for several minutes, they talked quietly while waiting for her to come out again.

Gibbs looked at his watch, wondering how long she'd still be up there. Another ten minutes, and he headed up the stairs to check on her. Abby stood to follow, but Tony grabbed her hand, pulling her back down beside him.

"Let him go, Abbs." Tony smiled at her. "He's got it, just fine."

"But…"

"He's got it, Abbs." A light finally dawned, and she sat back, grinning.

Ten minutes passed, and Tony was getting fidgety. He jiggled his foot. He put his arm around Abby, and then took it off. He went to the kitchen for a drink, and then returned to the living room. Ducky rolled his eyes as Abby grinned. She knew what her boyfriend was up to. He was getting bored. And a bored Tony would get her answers.

##############################

Gibbs knocked softly at Sam's open door.

"You ok?"

"Yeah." She rested against her headboard. "Just thinking."

"Want to talk about it?" He sat on the edge of her bed, his leg curled under him as he faced her.

"May as well." Sam smiled at him, taking his hand in hers. He laced their fingers together, waiting for her to continue. "I need to go to my family." She sighed. "Joseph can't do this by himself, my in-laws are getting older, Vernon is nowhere to be found, and Mary is dying. She's been given 6 weeks, and hasn't even told the little ones yet."

"Shit." Gibbs moved, sitting by her, wrapping an arm around her. "What are you going to do?"

"Go out there. I don't know after that."

"How's Joseph?"

"Upset." Sam leaned on Jethro's shoulder, snuggling into him for comfort. "He needs me to be there, Gibbs."

"I agree." Jethro pressed a kiss to her hair. "I'm gonna miss you, though." They sat in silence for a bit, each lost in their own thoughts. "When are you going to leave?"

"As soon as I can." She felt him nod. "Can I go alone, or do you want someone to go with me?"

"Well, you're out of danger, so you can go alone. I can come out on an occasional weekend."

"That'd be nice." Her fingers lightly traced one of the buttons on his shirt.

"Yeah. Can't leave my best girl alone for that long."

"Best girl, huh? Does that mean there's others?" She looked up at him, humor lighting her eyes.

"Only Cynthia, and that's just cuz she makes sure I've always got coffee." She pinched his forearm. "Hey! What was that for?"

"You and your coffee. I should just get you a robot that will cook and make coffee while I'm gone. Make sure you don't roam anywhere."

"Hell. I didn't roam for the last two years. Don't think I'll be in danger of it now."

"Good to know." Sam leaned against his shoulder once again, this time with her nose pressed to his collar. "I'll miss this smell."

"After one day, huh?"

"No, after two years of laundry, making your bed, having you standing by me in the kitchen, and picking up your dirty socks."

"Hey. You only had to pick up my dirty socks a few times."

"A few times a week, you mean. What is it about men and the hamper? I swear none of you know what it's for."

"Behave." Gibbs moved, covering her teasing mouth with his own.

They moved slowly into a more reclined and comfortable position, maintaining their contact the entire time. Already their breath was labored. A creak on the stairs had them stop for a moment, but the other was too much of a temptation to worry about whoever was coming up, most likely to use the other restroom.

A muffled grunt had Gibbs smirking against Sam's lips. "Tony. He makes more noise trying to be quiet than if he just stomped." Another thump was lost on the pair. They were involved in one another, and at the moment, this was all that mattered.

Unbeknownst to them, Tony was standing outside of the room, mouth agape. He'd caught them! Quickly he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Ziva. He began whispering to her, yet Gibbs' and Sam's ears caught every word.

The woman smirked up at Jethro as they had a silent conversation on how to handle this. The two were laughing, having a difficult time pretending to still be involved in one another. She quirked an eyebrow, and he grinned back. Her fingers laced into his hair, pulling his ear down to her lips. Their every move was reported by Tony, as if he was privy to some fabulous movie.

"Your children are in for it, aren't they?"

"You have no idea." Those short words were spoken in whispers Tony couldn't hear.

"You guys should see this. They're totally… oh, shit, he's getting up!"

Gibbs glared at Tony as he stood, and the younger man yelped and ran, heading for the stairs. Sam laughed as Jethro took off after him. She followed as quickly as she could, barely getting to see Tony's head fly forward as he tried to make a break for it into the kitchen.

Ziva had stealthily put her phone back into her pocket, hoping to be saved from punishment. Laughter broke out as Gibbs turned to her and pointed.

"Give me the phone, young lady. You're grounded."


	74. Chapter 74

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS. It's a pity, I know.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar, my fabulous beta! I love you! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb

Note: The story will be fairly dark and sad for the next few chapters. My apologies, but it's necessary.

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Howard smiled evilly down on Veronica. She lay in the rented hotel bed, drugged out of her mind. A mix of vodka, cocaine, and heroine had finally rendered her paralyzed. He was certain she could feel, as she could close her eyes in pleasure when he touched her sensually. He drove her to a sexual peak, amazed at how aroused she could become while not being able to move.

Her body reacted, in that she had goose bumps when he blew cold air on her skin, or ran an ice cube over her breasts. When he pinched her, she showed pain in her expressive brown eyes, but was unable to make a sound. He grinned wolfishly as he set up a video camera and prepared his next victim.

The drugs and alcohol had a firm grip on her, and he planned for her to die well before they lost their power. Of course, her inability to move or speak would play a large part in his plan, but she didn't need to know that.

"I'm setting this camera up so I can tape you." He winked at her, blowing her a kiss. "I want to be able to enjoy watching you over and over. You're going to be so sexy." She closed her eyes, falling asleep, relaxed in the knowledge that her lover would take care of her. If this pleased him, then she was willing to do this. After all, she was sure she'd enjoy watching the video, too.

Twenty minutes and a shot of vodka later, Howard woke Veronica up. He smiled down at her, telling her that everything was going to be fine, and that if she was scared, all she had to do was speak or nod, and he'd stop. Her eyes showed her confusion, as she felt too heavy to move anything. Even her head was leaden, and an attempt to nod ended with nothing.

"Good girl," he crooned. "You're going to do wonderfully." With a final kiss, he backed up from the bed, putting a mask over his face.

Veronica couldn't see around her to realize that he'd created a sort of cocoon about them of clear plastic. Nothing would stick to the walls, as nothing would reach them if he'd planned everything properly. There would be no screams, as she was still unable to speak, and with her body being held captive from her new-found love of drugs, she couldn't escape to safety.

Howard felt a sense of power course through him. He literally held her life in his hands. He'd been drugging her for days now, and she no longer realized that the drugs alone shouldn't paralyze her. With a sense of sick satisfaction, he glanced over at the bottle of pipecuronium he'd stolen while working as a janitor in a hospital. With another dose, she'd be paralyzed for at least three more hours.

He double checked everything one more time, making sure he had everything he'd need in their little room. His plan of the perfect murder would be ruined if he left a trace of his deed behind. Or, it would be ruined if he left a trace here at the hotel, at any rate. He had worn vinyl gloves while making sure he wiped off all of the fingerprints he'd left on his tools the day before as she'd slept, and had carefully repacked them, waiting for just this moment.

He clicked on the video camera, and began talking in a hushed voice, nearly an octave deeper than his usual tone. He told Veronica how beautiful she was, but then went on to describe how horrible she was. He listed off her crimes against society, from her penchant of theft to her love of drugs. She didn't understand most of what he said, but she clearly understood the sound of a knife being pulled from its sheath.

"I want the world to know how beautiful you are and were, Veronica. You're lovely. However, you're also an evil person. You steal." He shrugged as he drug the blade of the knife softly down her skin, not yet breaking the surface. "You do drugs."

Howard bent down, nipping at her breasts before speaking again. "And now, as much as I love you, you must die. You aren't useful to society anymore, and just like the others I've exterminated, it is your time. I'm sorry my love. I really am."

Howard stroked her cheek, wiping off the drool that had leaked from the corner of her mouth. "It's the drugs, Veronica. The pipecuronium makes you do that. But don't worry. It'll all be over soon. No more unsightly drooling, no more stealing, and no more drugs. I promise."

#####################################

Joseph had just finished helping his mom use the commode when there was a loud knock at the door. The two older girls were at school, and Allie was down for a nap. Mary nodded that she was ok for a few minutes, motioning for him to get the door.

"I'll be right back, Mom, and then I'll make sure you're comfortable, ok?" With a wave of her hand, she closed her eyes as he left.

She was getting more and more tired, and the chemo was getting worse, making her feel so much worse every day. She had begun to believe what the doctors had been telling her about her chances of survival. And it scared her. She didn't want to die. Her children would be left alone.

Perhaps she should make amends with Sam. She'd trust Sam with her girls long before she'd trust… A shrill voice reached her ears, and she closed her eyes with frustration. Her sister. The woman had long ago disowned her because she was an "unrepentant heathen," yet she was here. This wouldn't be good.

"Hi." Joseph had spoken softly. "Mom's resting, and the baby's sleeping. Please keep quiet." He looked at the strange woman before him. "Can I help you?" She looked like his "long-lost" aunt, but he wasn't sure. The last picture they had of her had been taken five years before his birth.

"Don't tell me to shush, young man. Where is your respect for your elders?" Her eyes held absolute contempt. "I knew that she was going to have unruly and ungrateful children if she continued with her evil ways."

"Evil ways?"

"Yes. She chose to follow the ways of the ignorant and demonic leaders who made our past miserable and sinful."

"I think you have no right to speak to me or her." He towered over her, anger showing in his eyes. "Please leave."

"Not until I've seen my sister. I've heard she's at death's door, and it is my duty, as a true servant of my Lord, to make her see the error of her ways so that she can escape the fires of hell."

"You need to leave."

"Joseph?" Mary's voice reached his ears, her words tired and weak.

"Coming, Mom." He looked to his aunt once more. "You stay here."

Joseph walked to his Mom, sitting down carefully on the edge of her bed. He adjusted the covers, helping her to sit up a bit so he could pull the pillows into a more comfortable position for her.

"What can I do for you, Mom?"

"Call Pastor Dave. He'll help us, and I want her out of here. She's worse than she was before."

"So she is your sister?"

"Yes." Mary grasped her side as a pain shot through her. "She left the family long ago, and I've not tried to make contact with her since. If she wanted to talk, she could have shown up long ago. Calling you ungrateful and unruly was the last insult I'll take from her." Mary's hand covered her son's.

"You are the best thing that ever happened to me, and I'm so sorry it has taken so long to see that." A voice cleared in the doorway.

"Telling him he's so good when the house is in such disarray isn't going to do anything but continue your lies, Mary. He could and should be doing so much better."

"He's a boy, Arleen, and he didn't ask to be an instant care-taker. He's doing the best he can."

Mary met Joseph's eyes, and with a nod, he walked from the room, leaving the two women alone. He dialed his phone as he stepped out onto the porch.

"Pastor Dave." The man's voice rang out cheerily.

"Pastor, this is Joseph Yellow Hand."

"What can I do for you?"

"We need your help. Can you come now?"

"Is it your mom?"

"Her sister is here…" Joseph didn't get out another word before the phone clicked in his ear. Having learned from previous conversations that the man wouldn't talk while driving, Joseph was correct in believing the pastor was on his way.

Pastor Dave drove much faster than he knew he should, but he'd spoken with Mary before about her sister. Much of her anger towards Christianity came from the cruel and argumentative beliefs the woman had. She had been converted into a "fellowship" who believed that works and perfection was the only way to heaven, and had completely forgotten God's grace and mercy.

Mary was too weak to deal with her sister, and truthfully, she shouldn't have to. He'd had two meetings with the pastor of the church Arleen attended when he'd first come to the reservation, and had been shocked at the number of passages, versus, and phrases that had been taken completely out of context to create an atmosphere of fear and control.

He walked into the house, not knocking for the first time since he started visiting the family. He strode purposefully through the small rooms, already hearing Allie fuss as Joseph tried to calm her. As soon as the tiny girl settled a bit, the screech of the self-righteous woman reached his ears, making Allie cry all over again.

"I told you years ago, and you didn't listen then, and you're not listening now! You are a sinner, and you need to repent! In Romans, the Bible tells us that all have sinned and come short of the glory of God. And you, my sister, have fallen so far, that it's only because God told me to come that I'm here. Otherwise, I'd leave your evil soul to Satan."

"I believe you forgot part of that passage." Pastor Dave leaned against the door jamb.

"And you are?" Arleen scowled at him.

"I'm Pastor Dave, and I have had the honor of having your sister in my congregation for nearly a year now."

"A pastor with tattoos and shoulder length hair." Arleen snorted. "What a disgrace. I should have known."

"Well, apparently you don't know your scriptures that well."

"Excuse me? What do you mean by that? I spend hours every day in personal study, and my family sits down…"

"And yet you're here accusing your sister." He quirked an eyebrow. "Didn't you remember that the entire section of Romans makes forgiveness clear? "For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and all are justified freely through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus. God presented Christ as a sacrifice for atonement, through the shedding of His blood, to be received by faith. He did this to demonstrate His righteousness, because in His forbearance, He had left sins committed beforehand unpunished. Romans 3:23-25."

Arleen's mouth gaped open, unsure of how to respond. She sputtered for a few moments, giving Pastor Dave a chance to speak again.

"As you can see, God doesn't hold our sins before coming to Him against us. And even after we convert, He's not expecting perfection. He understands that we're human, and are inclined to sin. Even your pastor, who I've had a couple of conversations with, had to admit that " Therefore, just as sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, and in this way death came to all men, because all sinned—", and if I'm not mistaken, you're one of those "all men", which means that you, too, have sinned. So by what right do you come here accusing your sister?"

"How dare you accuse me of…"

"I dare because I've interrupted you. Your sister is ill, and if you really cared about her as you say, you'd be praying for her and not shouting at her. You'd be cleaning or cooking, or you'd have come months ago to help with the children.

"You're not here because you care." Mary fought the urge to cry as she listened to the man she'd come to respect defended her. Joseph felt joy course through him as he listened to Pastor Dave take up his mom's defense.

"I care!"

"No, not really. You're here because you think that by basically humiliating her, you can somehow save her. Do you really think she'll listen to you? Would you listen to the hate you've been spewing?"

"I have not been spewing hate! I've been telling her the truth! This house is a mess! Her children aren't doing enough to help her, and I blame that entirely on she and Vernon choosing to raise them in this…Satanic, evil culture."

"Pretty funny, you calling this culture evil and Satanic. I understood you married an Anglo, but you chose to live here on this reservation so you wouldn't' lose touch with your heritage? This is part of your heritage. While you may or may not choose to practice it, why do you hate those who choose to live in the ways of your ancestors? Are you ashamed of it?"

"It's wrong, and you know it." Arleen straightened her shoulders. "Apparently, you're an apostate. You must be teaching people to believe that they can get into heaven any way they choose."

"No." Pastor Dave kept his cool, choosing to chuckle rather than shout. "The Bible is clear that belief in Christ is the only gate into heaven. However, Jesus himself sat with the sinners, tax collectors, prostitutes, and children. The religious rulers, who thought they were so wonderful, weren't worth his time unless they wanted to listen. I'm wondering what category you belong in."

With a growl, Arleen pushed past him and stomped out of the house.

"Are you ok?" Pastor Dave sat down on the edge of her bed, lifting her cup so she could drink.

Mary nodded, even though her head and hands shook.

"Joseph, how are you? You ok?"

"I'm ok, Pastor. Thanks for coming so soon."

"Of course. I'm sorry I didn't make it sooner." He helped Mary sit up when she began to choke on the water. "Come on, Mary. You can do it. Deep breath." He waited until she coughed up the bit of water she'd inhaled.

"There you go. Good job." He helped her lay back down and looked up to Joseph. "Has she eaten today?"

"A little. I was going to try getting her to eat some broth."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here." Pastor Dave smiled at her grumbling.

"If we do it this way, you can't argue. So there." Mary smirked despite herself. "Go ahead and get it. I'm gonna talk to your mom a bit."

"Thanks." Joseph switched Allie to his other shoulder.

"Bring her on in here. I'll hold her, and your mom can tell her a story if she wants to."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely. I love your mom's stories. Besides, maybe talking to this cutie will help all of us settle down. Yes." He nodded to Allie, his eyes wide. "You're good at calming us down, aren't you? Yes, you are." Allie giggled as Joseph headed to the kitchen.

#####################

Gibbs stood with Sam just outside of the rows of metal and material that began the line for security at the airport. They'd had a busy morning at Christopher's office signing papers before heading to the bank to set up a checking account that Sam could easily access, and a quick stop at a diner for breakfast.

"You got everything?" He handed her the small carry-on he'd been toting for her.

"I think so." She looked down, not sure of what to do. She'd always been the one to walk Ellis to this point at their much smaller airport, but she'd never been the one leaving.

"You gonna be ok?"

"Yeah. Just…it's weird, you know?"

"To be going back?"

"That, and I'm leaving, rather than being left. It feels different." Gibbs hmm'd before tugging her into a tight hug.

"I'm sure it does." They shared a quick kiss before she stepped into the growing line. "Call when you get there."

"I will." She smiled, trying to hide her fears. "Love you."

"Love you, too. See you in two weeks."

"I may not be home then, Jethro." He shrugged in response.

"Then I'm coming out. Two weeks." With a final squeeze to her hand, he was gone.

Sam had made it through security and onto her plane with no problems. She'd gotten a window seat, which wasn't really to her liking, but it was the last seat in first class, and Abby had insisted she fly in style and not in business or coach. Sam really didn't care either way.

She was looking out the window when her flight companion took his seat. She glanced over and smiled. At least this was someone she knew.

"Mr. Jones! It's nice to see you again."

"Mrs. Walking Tall." He smiled and held out his hand. "What a pleasure. I've heard things have gone well for you."

"They have." Sam smiled and blushed a bit. "I never expected so much from the trials. And to know that so many communities have started anti-prejudice campaigns is amazing. My lawyer, Christopher, has kept me informed, and he's donating everything he earned to help inner-city and needy families. He's been such an amazing person. I'm thankful for him every day."

"It sounds like you've had an incredible experience. Sure, some of it's been bad, but you've come such a long way. I was wondering if you'd be interested in doing a follow up to our first interview? Perhaps you can provide us some insight into the anti-prejudice campaigns that you're aware of along with letting us know how you're doing?"

"I may be interested, but right now, I've got to deal with a family emergency. My sister-in-law is very ill, and she and my nephew and nieces need to take top priority."

"Absolutely." He smiled broadly. "You've not changed a bit." He paused a moment. "May I ask one pressing question?"

"I guess. I may not know how to answer it yet."

"That's fair."

Their flight attendant came on and gave the instructions for emergencies, proper seat belting, and a request to turn off all electrical devices. Once she was finished, Harrison looked back to the woman he hoped to one day count among his friends.

"Those millions of dollars will change your life in many areas, some expected, and some unknown as of yet. What I'd like to know, and what most of America would like to know, is if it will change who you are. Will you still be Sam Walking Tall the goat farmer, or will you become Sam Walking Tall the millionaire, or will you choose to be something in between?"

"What exactly do you mean? I'm me."

"Yes, you are," he smiled patiently. "But do you think you'll find that you have difficulty adjusting to the new life you've found, or do you long to go back to the way you lived for so long? Will you find that money makes you ready to move on? Will you remarry? What will you do with your future? Will you go to college? Will you go to business school? Will you travel? What will you, Sam the goat farmer, do? What will you become?"

Sam sat dumbfounded. She'd never thought of that before. Sam the goat farmer. Is that how everyone saw her? Was she just kidding herself that she and Gibbs could work? Yes, they'd lived in this little cocoon of protection for the last two years, but now real life was starting. She quelled the fear she felt course through her and shook her head.

"I don't know, Harrison. I really don't know."


	75. Chapter 75

Disclaimer: Still don't own it!

Note: Thanks to Headbanger for being my awesome beta! And the problem I'll be explaining is ALL ME! Lol

Second Note: I realized I was writing two characters as one, and I've corrected it in this chapter. Um…can we blame the stroke? Kinda has my brain going "duh" at times…

#################################

Sam adjusted the seat in her rental car before backing out of her parking place at the airport. Her gut was going crazy, and that scared her. Ellis had been given six weeks, but he'd only lived three days after being given that time limit. Mary had already taken almost a week out of her six.

Sam ground her teeth as she drove. Yet again, she mentally cursed Vernon and his selfishness. If the jerk had stayed and taken care of his family like he was supposed to, then this wouldn't have happened. Mary would have gone to the doctor sooner, she'd have been diagnosed sooner, and she'd not be stuck in her bed dying.

Her fist slammed onto the steering wheel as tears blurred her vision. Some cancers ran in families, and she'd hoped Mary would escape her brother's fate. She wiped her eyes, continuing to drive, afraid that she'd not make it in time.

The miles were eaten away as she sped along, each one moving a bit faster than the other as landmarks became more familiar. She knew she was within five miles of the reservation, and decided to slow down a bit. The last thing she needed now was a ticket before she got there.

##################################

Joseph sat with his sisters while the hospice nurse checked on her mom. Her breathing had become more labored, and she was starting to ask to talk to people who had been gone for years. One such person was Ellis.

He'd finally gotten his mom to settle when he'd pretended to be his late uncle. Tears had filled his eyes as he listened to his mother apologize for believing that "he" had tried to turn her son from her. She begged for forgiveness, asking if Sam had come to visit with him. He'd had to tell her no, and that was moments before the nurse had arrived.

"Mommy's tummy is still yucky?" Acheflow stared up at her big brother.

"Yeah, baby. Her tummy is still yucky." Joseph cleared his throat. "Do you remember Uncle Ellis, and how he went to heaven?"

"Uh-huh." Amy sat in stony silence as she and her brother talked. Anger that her mom hadn't told her sooner still had the girl firmly in its grasp. She didn't understand that her mom had been sick long before she went to the doctor.

"Mommy has the same tummy yucks that made him go to heaven."

"So Mommy's going to die?"

"Yes." The young man felt sick. "She is, and we need to let her know we love her."

"When will she get better?"

"She's not going to, girls. Her body is tired, just like Uncle Ellis'. She's going to die."

"Will she go away?" Allie began to panic. "She's not going to get better? She'll stay away like Uncle Ellis and Daddy? But Uncle Ellis was sick for a long time before he died."

"Like Uncle Ellis, yes. Daddy may choose to come home one day. He ran away. He didn't die, that we know of, at least. Who knows what he did." Joseph cleared his throat. "And Mommy waited too long to go to the doctor. Do you remember when Mommy first started to feel sick? It was when An' Sam had to move away. And that was a long time ago. Maybe if she'd gone to the doctor then, she'd have felt better. But she didn't."

"Who cares what Dad did, Joseph." Amy stared daggers at her brother. "This is his fault. If he was here, Mom could have rested more. She'd have gone to the doctor sooner. If he'd gotten off of his lazy, useless ass and gotten a damn job, Mom wouldn't have had to work so much."

"I know." Joseph looked helplessly at his sister. "I don't know what else to say. But I know."

Amy picked Alex up from where she sat playing at her feet. The toddler was unaware of what was happening, and how drastically her little life was about to change. Her first birthday had been only two weeks before, and her new multi-colored piano still held her fascination.

##############################

Sam realized she'd forgotten to call Gibbs seconds before her phone rang.

"Hey." She flipped her phone open, putting it directly to speaker.

"You ok? I figured I'd hear from you sooner."

"I'm ok. Forgot to call. Got all worried about Mary and not making it on time."

"Is she that bad?"

"Mom called, and said that the hospice nurse says she's not got much time." Gibbs sucked in a breath.

"Do you want me to come out?"

"Let me see what's going on first." Sam wiped her eyes, pulling off of the empty highway to compose herself. "I just want to make peace with her, Jethro. I don't want her to die being angry with me. I just don't know how to fix this."

"You can only try, Sam. She's got to make the choice."

"I know. But I don't want her to carry that into the afterlife."

"Do what you can, and you know that you are. So just go and see how it all works."

"Thanks. I needed that." They sat quietly for a moment.

"If you need me, call, ok?"

"I will." Another beat, and Sam drew in a deep breath. "I ran into Harrison Jones on the plane."

"Oh? How's he?"

"He's good. He wants to do a special on how my life has changed in the past two years." Gibbs chuckled.

"You going to do it?"

"I may, but only if I can focus on the programs people are putting in place to guard against prejudice. I don't want it to all be about me. I want it to be about change, and how people are changing."

"Sounds good. What else you thinking on? I can hear something you're not saying."

"He got me to thinking about what my future will be."

"And?"

"He asked me what Sam the goat farmer had in mind for her future. And I realized that even if I'm in DC, and I'm dressed up nice, that that is what I am. I'm a goat farmer."

"You are so much more than that, Sam. What's going on in that head of yours?"

"I'm not sure I'm good for you, Jethro." Gibbs sat in stony silence. He'd liked Jones, but right now, he nearly hated the man.

"You're great for me, Sam. And don't you doubt that for a minute."

"Ok." She sniffled, not knowing how to handle this. He was happy with her, but she could easily hurt his career. "I'll call you when I know what's going on."

"I'll be waiting. Love you."

"Love you, too." With that, she hung up, knowing that she may have just said that to him for the last time.

#########################################

Doris and John Quincy arrived at the house. They'd already called Sam and told her to meet them at Mary's. The children didn't know she was coming, and they wanted to keep it a surprise, just in case Mary passed before she got there.

Their daughter was in a state of not knowing who most people were. Her pain was worsening by the day, and they wondered if her seeming decline wasn't partly due to pain management. She was on large doses of morphine, and hadn't been herself for days. She'd fallen asleep while telling Allie a story, and had not recognized Joseph masquerading as Ellis when she'd been in a state of agitation.

The elderly couple mourned the loss of their children in private, yet remained strong for their grandchildren. John Quincy was busy fixing a new room in their unfinished basement so that Amy could have her own space. They knew Sam would love to have the children with her, but she'd not yet purchased her own home.

Arleen had already approached them with her "request" to raise her nieces, and they had refused as politely as they could, stating that they'd already planned on keeping the children until Sam was ready to take them to her new home.

The woman had become angry, arguing for nearly an hour that she and her husband would be the better choice for the children. Her main points had been that they were financially secure and could provide the girls with two "stable" parents.

In her opinion, Sam was worse than Mary, as she didn't attend church at all. She'd been living with strangers, taking advantage of their generosity rather than standing on her own feet and restarting her life. After all, the woman was supposedly "strong", and wouldn't a strong person stand on their own, no matter the circumstances?

John Quincy felt his chest tighten once more as he thought of his estranged daughter. He worried about her, and about her future. She was making choices that were angering their neighbors, and even the pastor who had proven time and again that he loved their family was ensuring that she couldn't come into Mary's house.

Doris had come to appreciate the men and women from the small church who were coming day after day bringing food. The men had fixed some simple plumbing problems in the kitchen and bathroom, and one of them had overseen turning the bathtub into a shower with a seat, ensure Mary's ability to bathe as she became worse.

The men had taken up a sort of protection duty, and from sun up to sun down, there was someone at the house, ensuring that Mary remained unmolested by her sister. Arleen had shown up two more times, frustrated each time as she was turned away.

It was to this situation and protection that Sam arrived. She knocked softly at the curtained door, and was greeted by her father in law. The two exchanged quiet pleasantries, ending with Sam asking how Mary was, and if she was awake.

"She's awake." The old man nodded slowly. "She's not strong."

"I know." Sam nodded. "I'm gonna go see her." Joseph came from his mom's room and smiled.

"Hey, An' Sam."

"Hi, Joseph." She wrapped him in a hug. "How are you?"

"Considering my mom is dying and secrets that I've felt guilty for keeping for her are coming out one right after the other, so I only feel worse? I'm doing ok."

"I'm so sorry I've not been here for you, Sweetheart."

"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you." He rubbed his hands over his face before looking around. "Where's Uncle Gibbs?"

"He's not coming yet. I told him I'd call and let him know how things are first." Joseph eyed his aunt skeptically. "He'll come in a couple of weeks."

"Ok." Sam was glad her nephew seemed to be satisfied with her answer for now. "Mom's awake, so you should probably go in now. Want me to go with you?"

"That's ok, Sweetie. I need to make amends with her, and I'm not sure seeing us together would help."

Joseph smiled, his eyes lighting up. He hadn't had a chance to tell An' Sam about he and his mom making their own peace. Things had been too crazy, and he'd not wanted to go into details in front of his little sisters. Amy knew the tension, and she'd been happy to know, but Acheflow and Allie were clueless, and Joseph wanted to keep it that way. They didn't need any bad memories of their mom.

"She's different, An' Sam. We made up. Go talk to her, and make your peace. She's ready. She understands."

"She does?" Sam felt relief course through her as Joseph nodded.

"Unci gave her letters to read, and in every single one of them, you and Uncle Ellis were reminding me that even though things were hard here, I had food, clothes, love, and toys. Never once did you mention that most of those things came from you. She understands now."

Sam looked to her mother-in-law, who was carrying a fussy Alex to the sink to wash some mud off of her feet. The little girl had decided to play in the sprinkler, but found she didn't like the dirt when it was wet. Alex shook her feet, whining and hiding her face until she felt cool water and Unci's hands cleaning them.

"Thank you, Mom." Doris nodded, not needing to ask for what. The relieved look on Sam's face alone provided the answer. "Who's this?"

"You're welcome, Sam." She turned back to her grand-daughter, making sure the mud was coming out from between the girl's small toes. "And this little one is Alexandria, or Alex. Have you seen Mary yet?"  
>"No, I'm just on my way in."<p>

"Go on. Enjoy your visit." Doris shot her a quick smile. "She's doing well today."

"Is she?"

"Yes, she's content, and I think the nurse found the right level of pain medication. She's alert and talkative."

"Great. As much as I'd like to stand here and talk, I think I need to move my feet." Joseph grinned.

"Yeah. Unless you wanted to shout. But I'm not sure that'd be a good idea."

"No, not a good idea. Don't think your mom would appreciate that much."

"Probably right." Joseph winked. "Go on. I'll keep the girls out of there for a bit. They've been outside and are sort of unwilling to come in. I'll just make sure they don't come running in to see you once they realize you're here."

"Thanks." Sam squared her shoulders and walked to Mary's door. With a silent nod, she took a deep breath and walked in.

#############################################

Mary looked up as Sam walked in. She met her sister-in-law's eyes, unsure of how to begin the conversation she wanted. Mary knew she needed to apologize, but apologies weren't something the other woman usually wanted. She preferred changes of behavior and some sort of restitution. However, Mary was past the point of being able to restore anything, as it would take years.

"Ya'hey." Sam stood by Mary's new hospital-style bed. "I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner. I didn't know you were sick." There was no rancor in Sam's words, but Mary hung her head for a moment.

"I didn't tell you, and I didn't want you to know." She looked up, tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry. There are hundreds of things I should have told you. I should have…"

"Shh." Sam took Mary's hand. "Could have and should have don't need to be here." There was a moment of silence as each woman tried to think of their next words.

"I'm sorry I made you misunderstand all of these years, Mary." Sam wiped a tear from her eye. "I tried so hard to support you and Joseph, and while I could, Vernon. I guess Ellis and I didn't know how to help you right. We never meant to make you angry."

"Oh, Sam." Mary breathed her name softly. "I was the one who was wrong. I didn't want to see that I was making Joseph be the responsible one, and I wanted someone to blame besides myself for the distance and hurt between my son and I. It wasn't your fault or Ellis'. It was mine, and I'll not let you take any of the blame."

"Don't take it all." Sam sat down on the edge of her bed. "I could have done more to make you understand. I could have asked if you wanted our help instead of just assuming you'd like it. We went about it all wrong."

"So we'll both say sorry and move on?" The two chuckled as they agreed.

"I'm so glad we understand one another, Mary." Sam sighed as she stroked her fingers across Mary's hands. "I was so afraid you'd…." She stopped talking.

"I know. I was afraid I'd die and not get to tell you that I'm sorry. I didn't want you to think I was still angry with you or Joseph. He's been trying to earn my love by keeping every secret and hiding everything I asked him to hide. I'm so sorry."

"Hey, we agreed." Sam winked. "We're past that." Mary nodded. "So what helped you see?"

"There's a missionary, his name is Pastor Dave. The girls have been going to his church."

"The guy Joseph has talked about a bit? He's got long hair and tattoos and knows Pink Floyd?"

"That's the man."

"Sounds like an interesting preacher."

"Interesting doesn't begin to cover it." Mary chuckled. "He has a respect for us."

"You mean he's not one of those who preach that long hair is a sin, but then hands out…" Mary looked up, both women rolling their eyes as they finished in unison, "Pictures of Jesus and the disciples at the last supper with their dresses and long hair."

Both women started to laugh, remembering their childhoods, some of which was spent in schools and in homes with militant Christian families. The families believed they were doing a wonderful service for impoverished and irreligious American Indian children by taking them for a year or two and educating them "properly" and ensuring they received religious training. While most Anglo children grew up remembering their "Indian siblings" with fondness, the Native American children remembered strange homes with strange customs, being told to not speak in their native tongues, and foods that made their stomachs ache and their weight soar.

Most children returned to their families at the end of their time determined to never attend church, not worry about school, and were determined to do anything they could to not be Anglo. Some were in families that understood and loved the tribal cultures, but those were few and far between. Even more were taken as babies and were simply known as the lost children. Those children often returned to their nations once they were grown, only to find they were clueless about their cultures and that an Anglo had their identity.

Sam and Mary had both been gone for only one year, and they'd been together with one family. They had joked for years about the "serious sin" of long hair, and yet had been taught all of the deadly sins. Both had wondered if long hair was a bigger sin than gluttony. Sam had looked up that word, and found that it meant "to over indulge", and figured that Anglos picked their sins. After all, their "dad" had been humongous, and yet he'd been so concerned with their "brothers" hair.

"No, he's not one of those at all." Mary smiled, remembering her last conversation with the man. "He comes a couple of times a week, and he makes sure things are under control."

"Under control?"

"Yes, as in the dishes are done, the laundry is done, that we have food, and gas to get me to chemo."

"Not your typical preacher."

"Not the ones we grew up with, no. He's a man who teaches love, but he shows it even more."

"I'd like to meet this guy."

"Good. He'll be coming tonight, I'm sure. He's been coming every other day for a month or so now."

"That's a lot!"

"It is, but he's been helping me understand and come to terms with what's happening." Mary's eyes clouded. "And he's encouraging me to make plans for the future."

"That's good of him." Mary simply nodded, staying quiet for a few minutes.

"He has been good for all of us, Sam." Mary looked out her window, watching her girls as they played in the sandbox the men from their church had built only a week ago. "He's helped me to understand and accept that I'm dying, Sam."

"I've gotten the settlement, Mary. Is there anything I can do? If you had better care…"

"I'm in the final stages." Mary sighed. "I'm too far gone for anything to work. As it is, the chemo is really just giving me more time."

"Can I pay your bills? Will you let me do that? Is there anything you need that would make you more comfortable? I want to do something to help you."

"You're here, Sam. Even after I've been so bad to you, you're here."

"I'd be here even if you were still angry." Sam leaned forward and kissed Mary's forehead. "You're my sister-in-law, and while we may have not always agreed on things, you're my family."

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Now. Tell me who Alex is." Sam looked straight into Mary's eyes.

"I had a one night stand." Mary looked away. "Vernon had been gone for several months, and I got lonely."

"How old is she?"

"She's almost a year." Mary knotted her fingers together. "It was our anniversary, and I had a girl come over to stay with the little ones so I could get away." She paused, looking out the window. "I went to the bar and had a drink. One became two. You know how it goes."

Sam really didn't, but she nodded, asking silently for the story to continue. Another part of Mary's anger fell into place. She really became distant and ugly about that time. Guilt piled on top of self-loathing mixed with shame will do that to a person.

"I don't know who it was. Some guy working with the railroad. We got to talking, and he was buying drinks. I don't know how many we had. Not that it matters. All that matters is that I ended up in his hotel room. His first name was Joe. That's all I know." Mary wiped the tears from her eyes. "God! How stupid am I? I have three kids I can't take care of, so I go out and get myself knocked up!"

"Life happens, Mary."

"Yeah. And I didn't want another."

"I wish you would have told me. I could have helped you somehow."

"Yeah, I know." Mary scoffed at herself. "But I couldn't. I was so convinced that you were trying to take my children, and knowing that I'd had a one-nighter would have been just the mess you needed to get all of my children. You already had Joseph, at least love wise, and I couldn't bear letting you have the satisfaction of knowing that you'd won."

"Do you still feel that way? If you think it's best, I can go."

"No! I don't want you to go!" Mary half shouted. "I want you here. I've screwed up, and I don't know if we can fix all of this, but I want to. I wish I had years to fix this mess I've made, but I don't." She wiped away angry tears. "I screwed up, ok? I know it!"

"Settle down! I'm not mad. I'm just sad that you don't trust me. I'm sad that I went about helping you all wrong and lost your trust! That's all. Calm down! You can't be upset like this!"

"Don't tell me to not be upset, Sam." Mary glared at her sister-in-law, and Sam knew her mood swing was likely due to her medications. "I've got every right to be."

"Do you have plans for taking care of them once you're gone? Do you have someone ready to take them? Or are they going to go to foster care?" The change in subject seemed to work, and Mary settled somewhat.

"Well, I was kind of hoping you'd swoop in to save the day. But that was before, and I'm not wanting to just expect you to help. I don't know if you want to."

"They're my family, Mary, and I'll help as much as I can. Just tell me what you want."

"Take them home. As soon as I'm dead, take them home."

"I'll need to get a home first, you know."

"Yeah. I know. But you asked what I wanted."

"True."

The women sat in silence until happy girlish voices rang in the kitchen. Mary smiled as she called the girls in. They bounced on her bed, telling her all about the ants they'd seen, the daddy long-leg spider Acheflow had caught, and how Alex had gotten her feet yucky earlier. Sam waited until they'd finished telling their mom about their day before she greeted them.

Amy had looked at her a couple of times, but she'd been more interested in talking to her mom. The younger girls didn't know Sam as well, so they seemed to not notice her standing off to the side. Acheflow pounced on their aunt, kissing her repeatedly and going on and on about goats and asking if she could have one for her birthday. Allie was a little more reserved, but she too began begging for the four-legged companions she remembered her aunt always having a few dozen extra of.

"I can't get you goats today, girls." Sam laughed as she returned their hugs. "But, I promise, that each one of you will have your own goat one day."

Mary leaned back against her pillows and listened to her daughters as they introduced Alex and begged to fix their aunt's hair. Sam fussed over her new niece, agreeing that the girls were all just as beautiful as one another.

With happy voices surrounding her, Mary closed her eyes and fell asleep.


	76. Chapter 76

Disclaimer: I don't own it. More's the pity.

Note: Thanks to my awesome beta, Headbanger Rockstar! I LOVE YOU! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: Thanks also to Stareagle and lbinkeybella for cheering me on this week. Thanks!

##############################

Gibbs had been sanding on his boat for hours before his phone rang. He considered being a bastard and not answering, but decided that he'd not put his girlfriend through that. She'd probably had a rough day already, which is most likely why she'd not called sooner.

"Gibbs."

"Ya'hey." Her voice was quieter than usual, with a defeated tone to it.

"You ok?"

"Yes and no." She drew in a deep breath. "There was so much distrust and anger in Mary that she's kept secrets, and Joseph kept them right along with her, trying to earn her love."

"A boy will do almost anything for the love of his mother."

"Too bad he's only recently gotten it."

"Lost your trust in the process?"

"No. I don't think so. I mean, I'm hurt, but I can understand. I used to keep stuff from my mom or my dad, depending on who was doing what at the time. He's just older, but was still trying to get his mom to love him."

"Hard road." Sam sighed, and Gibbs waited, hoping she would tell him what was really bothering her.

"She's had another baby, Jethro. A little girl. Her name's Alex, and she's a doll."

"Yeah? How do you feel about that?"

"I'm sort of numb. I don't think I was ready for this." Gibbs hummed a response.

"Want me to come out?"

"No, I think this is something I need to do on my own."

"Alright. If you need me, you know where I am."

"I know." She hung up before he could bid her a good night.

###############################################

Gibbs swore when his phone rang five hours later. He looked at his watch and groaned. It was five thirty, and while he was usually getting up, he'd not fallen asleep until a little after one. The conversation with Sam had knotted his gut, and no amount of bourbon was helping.

"Yeah."

"Uncle Gibbs?" Joseph's voice came through with uncertainty.

"Yeah. What's wrong?"

"An' Sam's having a hard time, and my mom is going from one extreme to the other. I don't know what to do. Any ideas?"

"What kind of hard time?"

"She's crying a lot, and won't talk about you. I asked her where you were, and she changed the subject. I asked if you were coming, and she shrugged. Did you guys fight? She's just being weird."

"We didn't fight. I don't know what's going on. I offered to come last night, and she told me not to." Gibbs ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "What's your mom doing?"

"She's going in and out with the meds. She and An' Sam are making up, but then mom starts picking fights. She's getting angry the more she hurts, and she's taking it all out on An' Sam. One minute, she's going on about how it'll be so nice when the girls live with An' Sam, and the next she's screaming at her. I don't know what to do." The younger man's voice broke. "I can't stop her from hurting, and I feel so bad, and…"

"Hey, son." Gibbs spoke softly, his mind racing. How the hell did he talk the kid through this one? "You can't stop your mom from hurting, Joseph, you're right. And she's going to say things she doesn't mean. Your aunt knows it, too. She dealt with Uncle Ellis, remember?"

"Yeah." Joseph sniffled. "The girls are understanding that Mom's dying, and they're not wanting to do anything but sit in the house now. Mom slept longer than usual yesterday, and Amy freaked out. Now they won't go out to play."

"Are your grandparent's there?"

"Yeah, they're just about living here now."

"Ok, you guys just hang tight, and I'll be there in a day or two. Gotta take care of some stuff here."

"Thanks, Uncle Gibbs."

"Yep." With that, both men hung up. Joseph went back to referee between his squabbling sisters once more, while Gibbs sat and stared at his phone. Something was up, and he didn't like it.

If she'd talked to anyone, it would be to Sally or Abby. Since Sally wasn't about to answer questions for him at this hour of the morning, he'd call Abby. After all, she was usually already on her way to her lab, and Sally had threatened death the last time he'd woken her up at 3:30 in the morning. He sighed. He'd just have to put more Caff-Pow's on his tab.

##########################################

Howard surveyed his room one final time, making sure there was no evidence of what he'd done left. Walls had been wiped for prints, he'd taken out the trash in the middle of the night, driving several miles away to another county where he dropped the messy plastic into a large recycling container. Her blood had been carefully collected and poured into the toilet for quick disposal, and what was left of Veronica had been carried outside and placed high up on the hillside. Thankfully, he'd seen coyotes, and when he took a walk the next morning, only one hip bone was left, but it had been practically licked clean. He figured that after another night or two even that would be gone. He smirked to himself as he thought about how the creatures had provided him with cash from their pelts, and now they provided trash disposal with their empty stomachs.

The clean-up from the mess he'd made took longer than he expected, but it had been worth it. He'd always hunted his quarry, but he'd never taken the hands on approach before. It was different, more personal, and he found that he liked it. There had been something thrilling about tracing a knife down her throat as he joined their bodies that last time. Her heart had been beating so fast, and then, in mere seconds, she was lifeless.

His greatest pleasure was that he had it all on tape. He'd undressed, keeping only his gloves and mask on. He'd never used a condom with her before, and figured that this time would be no different. After all, she'd not get pregnant.

He'd not been ready to come when he broke her neck, but the quick tension of her body, followed by tremors of her nerves sending sporadic final messages had his sac drawing tight in seconds. She was lifelessly staring at the video camera as he gasped his release. Withdrawing, he looked down as his milky essence drained from her. Euphoric didn't begin to describe how he felt.

He adjusted himself and smiled. She'd been dead for two days, and even the memory of it was enough to have him aching with need. Perhaps he'd found a new favorite method of ridding society of useless and pathetic people.

Howard drove to another small town and parked at their library, where he slipped the video into the book return slot. It wasn't in a case, and had no writing on it. He was certain some bespectacled old maid would view it and scream or cry. Perhaps she'd get sick. He suddenly wished he could see her face. He was sure it'd be worth seeing. After all, no one would suspect that an innocently dropped tape would tell of a murder.

For nearly a week, he'd worn gloves most of the time, and he peeled the last pair from his hands after dropping the tape into the slot. He put cream on his hands to relieve his chapped skin before pulling away. He smiled as he contemplated his perfect crime.

Everything had been purchased with cash, so there was no trail linking any of the bloodied items to him. He'd kept the towel he'd put under her to catch his semen, and would burn it later that night as he camped. Everything had been disposed of in many places, and her body was no longer existent.

Killing was beginning to be boring. He'd fallen into a rut of homeless men or prostitutes. The tape he left behind would get at least one police department looking for him, and if he did this same routine in another few months, perhaps he could draw out someone from the FBI.

It would be fun to kill a fed.

########################################

Mary was sleeping for the second day in a row. Sam was glad that she had a morphine drip by this time, which allowed her rest and somewhat controlled pain when she was awake. Sam passed Pastor Dave in the hall, and the two exchanged quiet greetings.

"How is she?" 

"She's sleeping." Sam stretched her neck. "Been peaceful all day. She's barely moving."

"So the morphine is working?"

"Yeah." Both of them looked relieved. "Seems like they finally got the right dose. Hopefully she'll be awake again tonight so she can say goodnight to the girls."

"That'd be nice." Pastor Dave wasn't always sure what he should say to his new friend. He liked Sam a lot, but her distrust of anyone from a church was obvious, and the last thing he wanted to do was push her or offend her.

"If you want to read, I put that lamp back in there for you. And I put her devotion book on the chair. I know you were looking for it yesterday."

"Thanks, Sam. I know you don't really agree with your sister-in-law when it comes to spiritual things…"

"I may not agree, but I can see that she's settled after hearing you read, and that she's not angry any more." Sam shrugged. "I don't have to agree. I can see your religion is helping her and the kids understand and accept what's happening. That's all I care about."

Pastor Dave smiled at Sam. "I appreciate you caring enough to do things you don't really like. You've got a lot of love, Sam. Perhaps that's your gift."

"Gift?"

"Yes. I believe God gives everyone a gift. I think yours may be giving and loving."

"Loving isn't a gift, Pastor. It's how we're supposed to live." She quirked an eyebrow and smirked. "Or is that how some people get away with being so…unloving?"

"Nah, they're just weird." Sam laughed at his quick answer. She really liked this guy. Yes, his ideas were a bit odd, but he was a genuinely good person, and one that she appreciated.

##########################

Two weeks had passed, and Gibbs was no closer to packing his bags than he had been two weeks prior. His conversations with Sam had been short and often in the middle of the night. There had been a terrorist threat against an air craft carrier, and that had taken several days to solve.

He'd been involved in MTAC with gathering data, getting intel to Tony so they could track the cell, paperwork and IA investigations after the MCRT had needed to use deadly force to take out four of the terrorist.

The most frustrating part of the entire week had been his stifled conversations with Sam. He'd not realized how much he had come to depend on her quiet presence in his house. The lights were all off when he got home at night, there was no meal waiting for him in the oven or microwave, and his laundry was piling up.

He noticed that she was hesitant to return his "love you" at the end of their calls, and wasn't sure what was behind it. He knew she was dealing with a hail storm of emotions with everyone there, and he wanted to believe she was just reliving pain from when Ellis passed, but his gut told him otherwise.

Something wasn't right with his Sam. She was pulling away. Yes, she still answered questions, she still asked them, and she called every morning, while waiting for his call at night. That much hadn't changed. But she was distant.

He growled in frustration as his desk phone rang yet again. So much for leaving at a reasonable hour. It looked like another take-out night. With a glance to his watch to check the time, he picked up the receiver.

#######################

Pastor Dave watched as Mary took a steady decline every day. She'd fallen asleep while telling Allie a story, had nearly dropped Alex when she'd fallen asleep while cuddling the little one, and had been unable to eat more than three or four bites of anything throughout the day. She'd kept down only a few swallows of water or juice during all of this, and her lips were parched. Through all of this, Sam kept at her side, swabbing the inside of her mouth with water and trying to get her to take a few sips of anything.

Some people were given weeks to live and stretched their prognosis into years, others gave up, and some others, like Mary, fought it the best they could, but their bodies were far more tired than their spirits. Mary was determined to not leave her children this soon, but was beginning to accept that her body had other plans. With that in mind, she'd talked with him at great length about heaven, hell, and what he really believed.

He'd answered all of her questions with clarity, and when finished, was confident that she understood and he'd see her again when his time came. He sat in on conversations between the two women, being a witness to Mary's wishes and hopes.

Pastor Dave hid a smile as the women teased one another, Mary starting a playful argument when she reminded Sam that her kids weren't to live in the barn and be confused for Sam's kids. Sam laughed, but then came back with a witty remark about them forgetting to close doors, and for several minutes, the somber mood was lifted.

As the afternoon turned to evening, he left the two women alone, as they had their plans all laid out. Sam was going to take the girls as soon as she had a place of her own, and until then, John Quincy and Doris would be keeping them. Mary's sister would be an absolute last resort if anything happened to Sam or to the elder Walking Tall's.

Doris was in the kitchen making fry bread to go along with the family favorite of chicken and corn stew. Pastor Dave still wasn't used to the slightly pasty appearance of the dish, but he had to admit it was good. Still, he preferred the darker broth of a beef stew filled with many vegetables rather than chicken, corn, and potatoes with flour or flakes added to thicken it. He thought with a grimace that at least tonight they weren't having applesauce and mashed potato sandwiches.

Sam came from the bedroom, stretching as she walked.

"I'm gonna go take a walk." She'd taken to speaking in English, mostly for the benefit of the kind pastor who was nearly living at the house now.

Doris responded, and with a quick nod, Sam left. He wondered for a moment if the nod was for the family to wait to eat until she returned, or if they were going to start without her. They usually waited until everyone was there, even if it meant holding the meal over for an hour or so.

When the family sat down at the table twenty minutes later, he had his answer. Sam was nowhere to be found. He wondered briefly where she'd gone to, but as no one seemed concerned, he let it pass.

################################

Sam wandered along the streets, her mind reeling at how her life was changing. She'd not come out here intending to provide a home for her nieces and nephew. She'd come out to make peace and to help how she could. This was just more than what she'd intended to do.

Part of her cursed her love of her family and her internal need to help them. Another part of her was thrilled that even though Mary had thought the worst for years, she still trusted Sam to raise her family. Another part was still dealing with the hurt of knowing Mary had just expected her to swoop in and save the day. Had she really been that pushy through the years? Had she overstepped time and again when she and Ellis thought they were helping? Had Mary's calls for help been calls of complaining about life, and not really requests for money?

Sam folded her arms around herself and wished that she could talk to Gibbs. She'd called him, and once again had been sent straight to voice mail. Apparently he'd done some thinking, too, after their conversation about "Sam the goat farmer" and her future. Her breath quickened as she realized she'd have to end it with him, anyway. He wasn't going to want a young family. He had a career, a life he'd built slowly, and jumping into family life, especially a family who wouldn't understand his culture to begin with wasn't something he wanted to do. Allie and Alex didn't even speak English, for heaven's sake.

So much for falling in love again.

"Oh, Ellis. What am I supposed to do? I love my family. Our family. But I'm so lost." Her voice broke. "Do I stay here? Or do I move East? I'd planned on living closer to Gibbs and his friends. I don't know if I want to live here." She stopped and sat down on a rock that had served as a bench for years.

"What do you think? I feel like I should buy that house I like. You know, the one with the farm that's already fenced. I could get the girls into better schools, and they'd be able to have so much more as they grow. But do I want to be alone out there?" She started walking again.

"Gibbs isn't going to want to come over very often, and I'll not be able to go there. Not with the kids, anyway. He's not going to want them wandering around his house making messes while he and I are visiting. It's just not going to work."

The stray thought passed through her mind that she could refuse Mary's request and let them go live with Arleen. A shudder passed through her at the thought. She'd only met the woman once when she'd come out to the farm to "confront" Ellis on his life of sin, and that had been enough. Thankfully, she'd not had to deal with her at all on this trip. Arleen and Matt had shown up once, but they'd been refused entry, and had left quickly, albeit loudly.

Sam sighed as she pulled out her cell phone. He'd already sent her last three calls to voice mail today, and he'd not yet called tonight. Perhaps she'd been fooling herself all along. Someone like him couldn't be in love with someone like her.

"I've got my answer, don't I?" A gentle breeze flowed past, and she nodded. Enough of this self-pity and worry. The future would take care of itself. She just needed to make sure she was there for it.

##############

Two hours later, Gibbs grumbled as he drove to his silent and dark house. He missed the soft light that would be coming from the kitchen, and especially the woman he'd gotten accustomed to greeting after his long days at work.

He stretched as he walked to a cupboard to pull out a bowl and his last box of cereal. These last two weeks had been hell, and he'd not had the time to explain what was happening to Sam. He hoped she'd be more understanding than his past wives.

He pulled out his phone, planning on calling her as he ate. He yawned as he poured milk onto the tasteless bran, not caring that it was now stale. He'd not been home in three days. Davenport was still alive, but barely Pete was in ICU, and Jarvis was on the loose. The guy was determined, Gibbs gave him that much. Determined, but not an investigator. He covered his tracks, but he paved the route with messes he made trying to hide. Good politician, bad criminal.

Gibbs picked up his phone, scrolling through his numbers, only to fall asleep before he hit send. As he slept at the kitchen table, Sam curled into her blanket on the couch, refusing to let her tears fall. Slumber finally came, and with it more misunderstanding. She dreamed of him laughing at her, telling her she'd been crazy to hope. He dreamed of her coming home, greeting him happily at the airport, telling him that Mary was going to be alright, and their lives could continue on in happiness.


	77. Chapter 77

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to my beta, Headbanger Rockstar! Love you!

#########################

Tony signaled Ziva, who nodded in response. They both had their weapons drawn, and were ready to break down the door of Clayton Jarvis' home. The man had more leads pointing to him than Disneyland on a tourist map, and the team had no doubt of his guilt.

To further his current legal troubles, the man had taken his housekeeper hostage and was holed up in his study. Her screams could be heard as he held her captive. A quiet voice from Tony's earwig, a nod to Ziva, and they were ready.

"NCIS! FEDERAL AGENTS!" It was pathetically obvious who they were, but the law required they announce, and Tony didn't want to risk letting this bastard off on some technicality.

Jarvis started to shoot, his bullets flying wild, most of them hitting the surrounding walls. Tim grunted as one clipped his cheek, and he fell to the ground, knocked over by the sudden shock. A second bullet ricocheted off of a marble figurine, and he wasn't fast enough to avoid being hit again.

Tony and Ziva fired at the same time, their shots making twin holes in the man's head. His housekeeper curled at his feet, screaming her pleas for safety. Silence fell as both of the standing agents turned to the fallen men, their guns at the ready.

As Ziva walked up to Jarvis' lifeless body to check his pulse, Tony bent to check McGee. He was on his phone for a bus before he even touched his partner's pulse point. He sighed out a breath of relief when he felt the faint beat of the blood flowing beneath his fingers.

########################

Gibbs sighed as he got the call about Jarvis. He looked down at the suitcase that he had packed early that morning and rubbed his forehead. So much for getting out today. He wondered if he'd ever be able to leave.

He called the President, as the man had requested being kept informed. Yet another bureaucrat who was going to spit nails that he'd have to dodge. Just what he wanted. It wasn't his fault that Jarvis had turned traitor in his hunger for power.

"Mr. President, Sir, the MCRT team found evidence linking Under Secretary Jarvis to the plot against Secretary Davenport…"

For two hours, he volleyed a hail of calls from nearly every agency. Homeland Security demanded evidence so they could track Jarvis' previous movements to be sure he'd not been involved in a terrorist plot. The FBI had been looking at the man's financial records for months, hoping to build a case against him for embezzlement. Several Admirals had called, fearing that they were also going to be targets, and demanded protective custody.

Internal Affairs wanted the entire MCRT put on administrative leave while they conducted their investigation, and the President was furious that the Navy had let someone "like him" into their upper ranks, and wanted to know how the man's indiscretions had been ignored.

Gibbs just wanted a cup of coffee.

The third hour started with a call from the hospital from Tony that Tim was out of surgery and was being moved into recovery.

"Alright, Tony, leave Ziva there until another team comes in for protection, and then get your ass back here. I need you two to start your reports. This has turned into a shit-storm, and they can't wait until tomorrow."

"On it, Boss."

As Gibbs stepped out of his office, Cynthia looked up, almost afraid to speak.

"Sir, they're ready for you in MTAC."

"I'm going for coffee."

"Sir, I don't think…" Gibbs leaned down over her desk, getting right in her face.

"I. Am. Going. For. Coffee. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir. I'll let them know you've been, um, delayed."

###########################

Sam looked down at Mary as she slept. She'd decided to stop chemo, and to just enjoy the rest of the time she had. Hospice had been in twice already that week, and so far, while she'd been declining somewhat, she'd been staying as strong as her spirit could keep her body.

Her phone rang, and Sam stepped out into the short hall to answer it.

"Ya'hey."

"Hey, Sam." Her brow knitted. He sounded…exhausted.

"What's wrong, Jethro?"

"Everything." He rubbed his fingers over his eyes. "I can't really talk about it, but I can't leave yet."

"What's going on? Why can't you talk about it?"

"It's a matter of national security, Sam. I'd tell you, but I really can't." They were quiet for a moment. "I miss you, Sam."

"I miss you too, Gibbs." She drew in a breath, intending to speak, and then thought better of it.

"What were you going to say?"

"I've been here for four weeks already, Gibbs. You rarely answer my calls, you don't call me back most of the time. If you don't want to come, just tell me." He could hear her sniffle.

"Sam, I want to come." He tried to keep any anger from his voice as he spoke. He'd spoken with Abby only a few days before, and was well aware of how insecure she was feeling. "I want to be there with you. I know you need me, but so does the country. I can't leave now. Even when," he stopped for a moment. "Even when it's my family that needs me."

"I miss you." Sam's voice cracked. "I wish you were here. There's so much going on, and she's doing so bad, and…" She broke down crying.

"Hey, hey, Sam, I'll be there as soon as I can be."

"Ok."

"Are you doing alright?"

"No." Her voice broke. "I don't know what I'm doing, Jethro. I'm scared, and the kids are so… I mean, it was hard enough with Ellis, and we didn't have kids. This is a thousand times worse."

"I can only imagine." He swallowed hard, not even knowing what to say. For the first time in his life, he wished he had Ducky's knack for words.

A little voice came over the line, but he couldn't understand a word of what was said. He recognized the language Sam lapsed into when she was talking with her family, and figured correctly that it was one of her nieces.

"Hau, Leksi Gibbs."

"That means hello, Uncle Gibbs."

"Hello, Sweetie, what's your name?"

"Hau, Sweetie, taku nitawa he?"

"Allie." She giggled. "Econ inipi iyececa tunwin ki?"

"Allie," Sam rolled her eyes, "Econ sni iyunga he."

"What did she say?"

"She just asked if you like me."

"And what did you say?"

"That she shouldn't ask that."

"I think it's a good question, Sam. Tell her yes, that I like you, in fact, I love you."

"Ha, iyokipi wate lake miye." Allie giggled and took the phone from Sam, rambling on for a minute so fast that Sam couldn't understand most of what her little niece said. When she handed back the phone, Gibbs asked her what the little one had been talking about.

"I have no idea, Gibbs." Sam laughed as her little girl pranced off into the kitchen. "We call that "Allie-ese, and it's anyone's guess."

"Oh, great. So now I've got more languages to learn."

"You don't learn Allie-ese, Gibbs, you just nod and say yes." Gibbs smiled as he imagined Sam surrounded by her family. She'd missed them in the months that Mary had been so distant, and he was glad that she and Mary had found common ground.

"So where did all of that come from?" Gibbs was still smiling.

"I put in Cinderella a few nights ago, and ever since then, she's all about princes and princesses, balls, and dancing. She heard Joseph ask me if I'd talked to you, so she must have it in her head that you're my handsome prince."

"_Must_ be?" Gibbs played along, letting his teasing leak into his voice. "I _must_ be, huh?" This conversation was just what he needed to break the tension pounding in his head and neck.

"Well, I didn't want to just assume you wanted to be my Prince Charming."

"Every man is king in his own castle, you know."

"Oh, yes, so I guess that means that yes, you are my prince?"

"So long as I'm yours, I don't care what you call me."

"Court Jester?"

"Ok, maybe not that." Sam smiled as their conversation continued until he was back at NCIS.

"I need to go, Sam."

"Call me tonight?"

"If I can. I can't promise anything at this point."

"Ok, I understand." She sighed. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too." He waited a moment, hoping to hear her say those words.

"I love you, Jethro."

"I love you, too, Sam. I'll call you when I can, and I'll be there as soon as I can make it out."

"Just be safe, alright? I don't want to lose another…"

"You won't. I'll come as soon as I can. I promise."

"Love you."

"Love you." And with that, he was gone.

##############################

Another two weeks of frustration followed. It seemed that Jarvis was involved in more activities than just plotting assassinations. It seemed the more questions they answered, the more questions they had. Gibbs was busy from early morning until nearly midnight every night.

Alphabet agencies came crawling from far and wide, each one seeming to have an interest in digging out Jarvis' activities. Gibbs found himself speaking with the President more often than not, as SecNav was still in the hospital, and the Under Secretary had been the cause. Senators and Joint Chiefs of Staff joined in with making his life a living hell as they scurried to appoint a new Under Secretary, and possibly a new SecNav, as well.

Jethro's relief came late at night, usually in the cool, dimly lit office he'd been sleeping in out of necessity. He rarely went home during those two weeks, which ate at him like a canker, as he wanted nothing more than to sand his boat and talk to Sam while he worked. Instead, he called her late at night.

She often stayed on the phone with him until he was nearly asleep. She told him of the girls antics, and filled him on how Mary was. Joseph sometimes joined their conversations for a few minutes, but he usually left them alone to talk. The one who felt free to chat was Allie, who had decided she was Gibbs' best friend.

He'd listen to her chatter away, waiting for Sam to translate. Most of the time, he took his cue from her laughter and joined in, letting the stress from his day melt away with the comical child's giggles. He'd forgotten how nice it was to have a little girl to talk to.

With a sigh, he hung up his phone and fell asleep. Hours away, Sam closed her phone, looking far off into the distance through the open window by the couch. She wondered if they really could make a life, or if she was just hoping. Perhaps he was clinging to her right now because he was so overwhelmed with his work.

She rolled over, facing the back of the couch and decided that she'd not think about it tonight. She'd been with her family for six weeks already, and he'd not yet been able to come. He'd talked about it, and told her that the situation was almost cleared up, but she was tempted to give up hope.

Little did she know that Homeland Security was gathering enough evidence to be able to take over the investigation within days if all continued to go as planned. They'd found possible links to terrorist cells, possible links to illegal arms dealers, and with that, they only needed one more loose end to take over. As soon as they had it, Gibbs was free.


	78. Chapter 78

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to my fabulous beta, Headbanger Rockstar! Love you! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: TISSUE WARNING!

##############################

Joseph sat by his mother, her hand still in his as his aunt felt for her heart beat. He'd stayed by her side for the past month, talking to her when she was coherent, and giving her pain medications when she wasn't. He'd slept on the floor by her bed, not wanting to leave in case he missed her passing, just to be sure she wouldn't be alone. Just to be sure she knew she was loved.

"I'm so sorry, Joseph." Sam met her nephew's moist eyes. "She's gone." The young man laid his head down on his mother's hand, his tears falling silently.

Sam dialed the number for the hospice nurse after leaving the room. Joseph came and sat beside her, resting his head on her shoulder. He watched as his grandfather went into her room to open her bedroom window, allowing her spirit easier access to the vast sky above. He also knew the old man would take a cutting from the small bit of hair that had started to regrow following her decision to quit chemo. Her hair would be burned in a fire of sweet grass, cleansing her spirit for the afterlife.

Sam was making another call, this time to Gibbs. She doubted her nephew was paying any attention, and perhaps it was best if he didn't.

"Gibbs, it's Sam. I know you're probably in a meeting, but I wanted to let you know that Mary's gone. She just passed." Her voice broke. "I'll talk to you later."

It was too soon. He wasn't ready for his mom to die. They'd finally started talking. They'd finally started to understand one another, and now she was gone. He knew is aunt was talking, but couldn't seem to understand what she said.

Sorrow broke over him like water from a shattered jar. His sisters came and sat with him and on him, having been shooed from the room by their grandmother. Minutes passed in which he was out of touch, hiding in some sacred, secret shelter within his heart.

"Joseph?" His grandma stood before him. "Do you know what she wanted to wear for her funeral?" He felt himself nod, but couldn't make himself stand to go to her room.

"She told me, too, Mom. I'll get her things."

"No." Joseph hugged Alex tighter. "It's the last thing I can do…" His voice broke as he handed his baby sister over to Amy. She curled around the tot, holding all three of the younger girls as tightly as she could. Sam moved to sit by them, wrapping her arms around all four of her girls.

She sighed when Allie leaned over and wrapped her small arm around her neck. The child's tears were soaking her collar, but Sam didn't care. When she began to sob in great aching gulps of air, Sam took her and cuddled her closer, allowing Amy to cry without worrying about dropping her sister.

Sam stroked the girl's hair. Words were lost at a time like this, so she didn't bother trying. Pastor Dave had been called, and he walked into the kitchen just as Joseph came out with a bag filled with the make-up, jewelry, shoes, and clothes the undertaker would need for his mom. Joseph's eyes dropped for a second.

"I'm so sorry, Joseph." The younger man nodded. "What can I do?" Joseph shrugged, looking for the words.

"Is what you say true?" His face was tortured. "I'm not sure I believe it, but will it be true for her? She believed it so much."

"I'd never lie to you, Joseph, or to her. I believe with all my heart that what I teach is truth."

"She is there, then?"

"Yes, I believe she is." Joseph nodded and walked back to his sisters, sitting on Amy's other side.

############################

Gibbs dialed Sam's number once more, and to his frustration, was sent to her voice mail once more. Their relationship had been strained in the last month as they dealt with being separated for far longer than either had expected. Once Homeland Security had taken over Jarvis, Gibbs still had to get his own house back in order.

Tony and his team had been on administrative leave for over a month, meaning there was no one to take Gibbs' place at the main headquarters. Hetty could handle some of it from her location, but there needed to be someone in the office for the day-to-day operations, and there just wasn't. Once the MCRT team was back to work, they'd needed to all requal, which had taken more time, as Tim's shoulder and Pete's hand had been injured.

For Sam, she was watching her sister-in-law linger while her children hoped and prayed that each day meant she'd improve and get out of bed. She had needed him, still needed him, and he'd put his job before her. Before her…their family.

"Sam, it's Gibbs. I'm on my way. I'm so sorry I've taken so long to get here. We should be there in another hour or so." He paused. "Love you."

"Want me to drive faster, Director?" Paul asked as he pushed the petal just a bit farther down.

"Not unless you're under the limit. We don't need a ticket. I just want to get there."

"Yes, sir."

Gibbs looked out of his window as they whipped down the empty highway. There were a few houses dotted along, and every mile he became more aware of the differences that Abby had made him aware of. He didn't care, but to Sam, they seemed massive.

"_Any idea of what's going on with Sam?" Gibbs grumbled into his phone. _

"_What's she doing?"_

"_She's upset. Joseph doesn't know why, but it's something to do with me." Gibbs paused. "She saw Harrison Jones when she was on the plane, and he asked her what "Sam the goat farmer" was going to do with her future. She's been distant since."_

"_Oh."_

"_Oh? What's that supposed to mean."_

"_Oh means that she feels like she doesn't belong sometimes."_

"_She does belong, Abby. More than anyone's belonged with me for a long time."_

"_But now she's had to go back home, Gibbs. She's back where she came from. Gibbs, there's a difference between living in the city and the country. But this...this is even more different because the area has such a high poverty level. And this area is where Sam is from-it's where her roots are-where she grew up. She's going to want to help those people, and she's going to be able to relate to them because it's all she knows. She's worried that you won't want to look beyond her money and see her as someone who can look at bigger issues. She's a smart woman Gibbs, and she knows a lot of things about a lot of things, and you'd be smart to remember that." _

_Gibbs ran his hand down his face. He'd never even considered that. _

Another conversation from only a few days ago came rushing back into his memory. He and Sam had made up over the phone, but she was still so insecure, and he could understand in one way, and in another, he had no idea of how to proceed. He didn't even know if she'd still want him after this. His job had taken first priority, and that was something she'd already been through for most of her life.

"_So now what do I do?"_

"_She's feeling really insecure right now-the money has not made her problems go away; it's made her realize that she's got more on her plate than she first realized. And she feels like she has to choose between her life here and her life there. Don't make her choose Gibbs. Listen to her, meet her where she is, but don't give her any ultimatums right now, and don't make her choose."_

"_I want her back, Abbs. I want her here with me." He cleared his throat. "I've come to depend on her."_

"_You know how they say that if you love someone, you have to let them go?"_

Gibbs swallowed hard and hoped it would never come to that. He had hated to admit it to himself at first, but he missed her with an ache that was as bad as when he'd be on deployment and had to leave Shannon behind. He'd never expected to find love again, and part of him had wondered if their attraction was only because they'd been in the same house, but now he realized that he was honestly in love. And if she was walking away, he'd be miserable for the rest of his life.

Paul turned onto another dirt road, clucking his tongue at the lack of stop signs on corners. He wasn't sure of what to do, so he stopped at every intersection, checking for traffic. There were no other cars that he could see, but he wasn't sure if his luck would hold. The houses around him were as ramshackle as the road, and he began to see the level of poverty that he'd heard about from some people who had visited the non-tourist areas of reservations.

In the backseat, Gibbs looked out of his window with a growing feeling of dread. He needed to find a way to let Sam know he didn't care about her past. He didn't care about her money. He had his own. He had a good job, and didn't care if she gave everything away. He just cared about her.

###########################

Sam heard a car pull in and looked up to see if her in-laws were out of Mary's room yet. They weren't, so she tried to hand Allie off to the pastor. The girl whimpered and clung harder.

"Ok, Babe, I've got you." She adjusted her hold on the little girl and went to the door. The hospice nurse came in, her manner sympathetic.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get here."

"It's ok. We've not made any other calls. I figured you'd call the funeral home for us."

"Of course." Wendy started to set out her paperwork and went into Mary's room to do a final vitals check.

She was back in the kitchen a few minutes later with all of the medications that were left. She carefully catalogued how much was left from each prescription, when they had been filled, and how much had been given, ensuring that her former patient hadn't been denied medications, as well as proving that none had been taken by the mourning family. It was her most hated part of hospice work, as filling everything out meant that her client had indeed passed.

Wendy had kept careful records the entire four months that Mary had lingered, and never once had the family been anything but careful and honest with the medications. Wendy felt almost as if she were accusing families at this time, but the state required this documentation. Once she'd counted and documented everything, she returned to Mary's room and asked her parents to step out, as she needed to remove Mary's catheter and IV.

"I want to stay." Doris met Wendy's eyes. "Until she leaves the house, I want to be by her side."

"I understand, but this can be upsetting, Doris."

"No more upsetting than the death of your youngest child, when you've already buried your eldest." With a nod, Wendy began to finish her work. Only once did Doris draw in a quick breath. Wendy looked to her, but Doris shook her head. Wendy finished as quickly as she could, knowing that the elderly woman was barely holding herself together.

When she finished, John Quincy came back into the room, holding his wife close as they stood by their daughter's bed. The old man offered up prayers for his daughter in a shaky and tired sounding voice. Doris joined him for one, but wasn't able to finish. He patted her back softly as he continued, letting her cry for him as well.

The family sat huddled in the living room as Wendy sat at the table making calls. She spoke softly, but her words carried in the silence. Calls to her employer confirming Mary's death were listened to with quiet disbelief. The call to the funeral home to come collect her body finally broke through the fog of emotion, and Joseph began crying, his tears starting fresh floods from his sisters.

Sam wept with the children, her voice lifted with theirs. Pastor Dave sat quietly with them, knowing that while he would offer words of comfort, now was not the time. Now was a time for mourning, not for comforting. He stood and put a hand on Joseph's shoulder, not expecting the young man to put his hand over his, acknowledging the man's well-earned place in their home.

A knock on the door twenty minutes later surprised Sam. She'd expected the funeral home to take much longer, but assumed that they'd hurried since there were children in the home. Once again, Allie refused to be passed off.

"Cinca, ki ica ta icu tiyopa. Okihi inipi iyotaka kici…" (Little one, I need to get the door. Could you sit with…)

"HIYA!" The little girl screamed and clung tighter. (NO!)

Sam shook her head to Joseph who began to stand. "I'll take her. Just rest." He settled back down into his seat, holding Amy's hand once more.

Sam got to the door and opened it slowly, hoping to be able to send them to Mary's room without having to discuss too much in front of Allie. Her niece was still sobbing uncontrollably, seeming to understand that this new knock on the door meant that her Mommy was going away forever.

She opened the door, not expecting to be met with worried blue eyes.

"Gibbs." She backed up. "I didn't think you were going to come." Fresh tears started to pool in her eyes as she looked at him. He took Allie from her, and for a moment the little girl fussed.

"Allie, le he Leksi Gibbs." She settled in his arms, her head buried beneath his chin. Gibbs rocked her for a moment before gathering Sam close, as well. (Allie, this is Uncle Gibbs.)

"I'm so sorry it took me so long to get here." He pressed a kiss to her hair. "I'm so sorry."

"She's gone, Gibbs. Oh, gods, she's gone." Sam allowed herself a moment to cry, holding onto Gibbs tightly. She heard tires on the street and looked up. "The funeral home is here. Can you take her into the other room?"

"Sure." Sam nodded to Paul and Frank as they walked past. She waited at the door, drying her eyes as two men dressed in black suits stepped from their hearse. In the other room, she could hear Gibbs being greeted, and she was relieved when his quiet voice seemed to settle some of the tears. He was good at comforting, especially with children.


	79. Chapter 79

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to my awesome beta, Headbanger Rockstar! Love you! Ptbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: Tissue warning again.

################################

Sam opened the door, releasing the spring holding it snug to allow their stretcher through without banging. The children were going to have a hard enough time without a screen door slamming to remind them of the morning their mother died.

The black suited men came up the bumpy walkway, their pace slow and somber.

"I'm sorry for your loss." The older of the two men spoke. "We'd like to have a moment to get her onto the stretcher, and then if the family would like, we'll wait for final good-bye's before we leave. Some families find it comforting to have a last moment in the home with their loved one."

"Thank you. I'll go see what everyone wants to do. I think we are going to request a final viewing here."

"Yes, Ma'am." Sam nodded and led the men back to Mary's bedroom.

John Quincy and Doris moved to the side, watching silently as Sam left to speak with the children. She wasn't sure if Acheflow comprehended what was happening at this time. She'd really been too young when Ellis died to understand that he wasn't coming back, and now, he was just someone that had lived a long, long time ago. And she was older than Allie or Alex.

Sam stopped for a moment, leaning against the wall for support. This was going to be the hardest thing she'd ever done, and she'd done some pretty difficult things in her life. She sent up a silent prayer for help before making herself move to the living room.

"Cinca," She began speaking when she'd seated herself on a low stool before the couch where four of them sat huddled. Gibbs moved with Allie to sit by Joseph. "Nitawa ina inahni ta. Winyan wate lake inipi. Eyas, winyan za sni-nika. Wana kupepi kte eya iyaye, na totan kupepi ka, kte yanka eyapaha canagnaka." (Children, Your mom has died. She loved all of you. But she was not healthy. And now we're going to say goodbye here, and the next time we see her, will be at her funeral.)

Five tear streaked faces stared back at her silently. Joseph had his hand wrapped tightly in Amy's, and their arms formed a closed circle around Acheflow and Alex. Allie was firmly clamped against Jethro's chest, her arms wrapped once again around his neck as tightly as she could manage. He patted her back and hummed softly to her, his own eyes filling with tears. He'd not understood what Sam said, but he knew that she was preparing the little ones for their mother to leave the house forever.

"Econ inipi yuha iyunga?" (Do you have questions?)

"Tuktel he Mama wana?" (Where is Mama now?)

"Eyapaha wicatancan he el lel. Eyapaha wanagi yata he kici unkitawa Tunkasila." (Her body is here. Her spirit is with Great Spirit.)

A throat cleared in the door, and Sam stood, motioning for her nieces and nephew to do the same.

"We're ready to go. Would you like a moment?"

"Please." Sam spoke softly. "We would."

She held out her hand, and Joseph came forward first. He looked down at his mother, feeling the need to run or scream. He wasn't sure, but he was sure that if he didn't have a firm grip on his aunt's hand, that he would have been doing one or the other. He looked up to his grandparents first, and receiving a nod from his grandfather, he pressed a final kiss to her brow.

He whispered something, his voice barely above a breath. His last "I love you" was for her ears only. The others didn't need to hear it. He stood up and motioned for Amy to come, and she pulled along her younger sisters. Gibbs followed behind with Allie, and he helped by holding Alex in his other arm as the two little girls kissed their mommy.

Alex tried to wake Mary up, her cries becoming louder, her kicks getting wilder, as Sam rescued Gibbs from her thrashing.

"MAMA! KIKTAPI! MAMA! MAMA! KIKTAPI! KIKTAPI! KIKTAPI!"

"Shh, shh, Alex. Mama kiktapi hiya isom." (Mama can't wake up.) Sam patted the tiny toddler as she walked away from Mary's body.

Doris took up a keening, her throat trilling a high pitch to call in the spirits to hear their pleas for her safe journey to heaven. The sound seemed to calm the children for a moment. However, when the men began wheeling her out, they began to panic.

#####################################

Dinner was over, the girls were in bed, John Quincy and Doris had returned to their home, and the house was peaceful for the first time since late morning. Joseph was in the shower, doing his best to wash away the sorrow of the day, while Sam and Gibbs sat at the kitchen table with notebooks and papers spread before them.

"I've been talking to Christopher, and he's put a bid on this horse farm."

Gibbs pulled the printed picture over as he put his glasses on. He glanced at Sam again, hope filling him as he noted the address. It was barely an hour from DC, yet was still close enough to be by shopping centers and schools. She'd looked at it with the girls in mind, and not just the farm.

"This is a nice place."

"Yeah." She showed him the floor plan, pointing out what each room would be, and where the girl's bedrooms would be. "They've all got their own rooms, which is just a bonus, and Joseph can have this finished apartment in the basement when he's home for the summers."

"He'll like having his own apartment."

"I think so. He's grown, and while I want him to feel free to come home, I don't want him to feel like he's living with a bunch of my rules."

"It's a good idea."

"Thanks." They sat quietly for a minute. Gibbs reached over and took her hand in his.

"I know now may not be the best time to ask this, but, do I still have a place beyond friendship in your life? I know I wasn't here when you needed…"

"Gibbs, hush." Sam leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "I don't know what I'm going to be doing, to be honest. I want you in my life. I know that much. But the children need to come first, before anything, even us."

"So friends for now?"

"I think that's best." Sam lowered her eyes, squeezing his hand. "I wish I could say that I was sure."

"That you want me around is enough for now." She looked up at him, relief written on her face. "If that's what you want, I'll take it. Of course, I hope that we'll move on from there."

"We'll survive, Jethro. Life is changing for all of us. We'll just have to figure it out as we go." She leaned in and kissed him once more, as if savoring the last taste she'd have for a while.

Gibbs smiled at her, his entire face lit with pleasure. He knew there was bound to be some sort of trouble down the road, as all relationships end up having some bumps, but if she was willing to find a place for him, then he was indeed the luckiest man on the earth. In the other room, they heard the shower turn off and the door slide open. Joseph swore as he knocked his head against the low door rod.

"Guess we'll have to put this conversation on hold, huh?" He tilted his head toward the bathroom. Sam chuckled.

"I suppose. There's a lot more to discuss, anyway."

"Director?" Paul stood in the door to the living room, his eyes looking anywhere but on the couple seated at the table.

"Yes?"  
>"Should Frank and I head to a hotel for the night? What would you like us to do?"<p>

"There's no hotel around, Paul." Sam stood and started down the hall. "I'll get out some cots. Mary liked to take the kids camping. They're not the best, but they're all I've got for tonight."

"I'm sorry to make more work for you." Gibbs followed her, holding his hands out to take two of the bags she pulled from the closet.

"Don't be. I'm glad you came."

"Me, too." Joseph stood in a towel just behind Gibbs. "We need you here. I need you, so does An' Sam. And the way Allie's been clinging to you, well, I guess she needs you, too." He put his arm around Gibbs' shoulder, leaning on the slightly shorter man for just a moment. "It means a lot that you came, Uncle Gibbs. It means a lot. To all of us."

##################################

"Mary and I signed papers before she was too sick to make decisions, Jethro." Sam sounded as nervous as she felt. Everyone but she and Jethro were finally asleep, with his security detail sacked out on cots in the living room.

"Oh?"

"I'm taking the girls, I know I already told you that, but, they'll stay with their grandparents while I get the house ready. They're signed and cleared with the elders, so the girls can leave the reservation. I'm adopting them, so I had to go through the process, same as everyone else."

"Why not stay here with them?"

"We talked about that." Sam rose and refilled their coffee cups. "It's hard to explain, especially why it was such a hard decision." She sighed. "Both Mary and I wanted to give them more than they could have here. Here is…" She looked around at the poorly constructed HUD house that the family lived in. "Poverty. They'll be surrounded by kids who don't have the opportunities, or the financial help that I can give the girls. I want to make a large donation to the nation, but I want to be able to help these kids go to college, to make better lives. Perhaps go on to be lawyers who can help change laws for our peoples. Maybe get rid of some of the archaic laws that have been on the books since the 1800's. They don't do anything but hold us back…" She started to ramble.

"Shh." Gibbs put his hands over hers. "You're getting worked up again." She bit her lip and laid her head on his shoulder.

"Thank you so much for being here." Gibbs didn't say a word, but he wrapped his arms around her and rocked slightly. "I don't think I could do this if you weren't. I mean, what will I do in the future? Should I try to have animals? Should I focus on the girls? I know that animals can help kids emotionally. But does that mean they want to have goats where they live?"

"I think the first thing we should worry about is the house. Let me help you get it ready. I can put together the furniture while you paint if we have to. But let's focus on that first. And then we can go from there."

"We." She sniffed. "You make it sound like you've already decided you want to be with all of us. It's not just me anymore, Gibbs, and I don't know how they'll do with all of these changes. I don't know if I'll be different when I'm so busy with little ones all of the time." They were quiet for a moment, as he let her get her thoughts together. "I don't know how they'll do with another man in their lives. They're so hurt from their father." Sam wiped tears from her cheeks. "Amy's so angry. She's just…"

"Like you said, Sam, we'll make it, and we'll figure it out." His arms tightened slightly. "I love you, and that's not going to change. Our lives may be different than what we expected them to be, but I'm not going anywhere."

#################################

Dawn came, and with it the new day. Life without Mary had begun.

The girls fussed over their breakfast of bacon and eggs. They wanted their eggs done like Mama did them, which unfortunately, didn't seem to be any way that anyone knew of, not even Amy. The teen was sullen and quiet, looking at Gibbs as if he was some sort of intruder who didn't belong.

Alex and Allie found comfort in the silver-haired man's lap, while Acheflow stared at him, listed to him read stories, and finally sidled up next to him. She sat by him for hours, listening as he read to his sisters and cuddled them, as if that was his sole purpose in life.

When it was time for lunch, she let him help her get washed up, and wondered why the man only spoke English. Her sisters didn't seem to care, because someone was paying attention to them, but she thought it was odd. Didn't everyone speak their language? She wondered what was wrong with him. He smiled, so he was nice. He cuddled the little ones, and even offered her a hug on occasion.

An' Sam liked him a lot. Her smile was prettier when he was in the room, and Acheflow saw her aunt "check" on them several times to be sure everything was alright. Maybe he was one of those people his Daddy talked about. One of the crazy people who had grown out of the corn stalks. But her tunkasila said that was just a story, because everyone was made the same way. Finally she decided it was better to just ask. After all, her teacher told them all the time that the only dumb questions were the ones they never asked.

"Why don't you talk right?"

"What?" Gibbs chuckled. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you only talk English. Didn't you learn to talk right?" An' Sam was standing at the stove and she felt her jaw drop at her niece's question. She started to reprimand the little girl when Gibbs dropped to his knees.

"Well, do you see how we look a little different?"

"No." Acheflow shook her head.

"Well, come here." He picked her up and carried her into the bathroom once again, situating her on his hip so they could both see the mirror.

"There's me and you!" Acheflow smiled at herself, and then stuck out her tongue as she crossed her eyes.

"Yes, there we are. What do we have the same?"

"Um, eyes?"

"Yep, what else?"  
>"Ears!"<p>

"Very good. What else? Tell me everything you see that we both have."

"We've got eyes, and eyebrows, and noses, and cheeks, and you've got a hairy face, and mine is smooth!"

"Yep, that's because I didn't shave this morning. And that is a difference!"

"So you're different than me?"

"Sort of." He smiled, wondering if he was going about this all wrong. "We're so much alike, and yet we have little differences. Like, you have pretty black hair, and I have gray. You have brown eyes, and mine are blue."

"And they look silly." Acheflow giggled. He tickled her belly, and she squealed.

"Well, one of the differences that we have is in language. My mommy and daddy speak only English, so that's what they taught me. Your mommy and daddy spoke both, so they taught you both."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did they only speak English?"

"Because their parents only spoke English." Acheflow thought for a moment.

"Does that make you better than me? Tommy in school said that his daddy said that Anglos say they're better."

"Nope." Gibbs shook his head. "Just like we've got the same things on our faces, we're just the same inside. I'm no better than you, just like you're no better than me. People who think that someone is better than anyone else is just thinking silly."

"Oh." She cocked her head. "So why do you have protector men?"

An' Sam decided it was time for a rescue.


	80. Chapter 80

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar for being my amazing beta! Love you!

Note: Please remember that this story is OOC and AU!

####################################

Matilda Harding walked into her quiet library. This was one of her favorite times of day. The smell of the books, the coffee she'd brew for the early morning patrons, and the quiet hour she had to stamp books as returned and finish shelfing the previous day's books made for a pleasant start to her day.

She'd retired from teaching three years before, and found that she was bored sitting at home or going to her friends' homes for coffee. There really was only so much any of them could talk about, and she'd become bored with the routine after only two months. She'd gone back to the small community college near her home and learned a new occupation.

The privacy laws and checking books weren't hard to learn, but she enjoyed the challenge of having a new chapter of her life start. It was in this quiet part of the day that she opened the book return and began stacking the dropped-off books so she could get them ready to loan out once again.

She pulled out a video tape that was in a clear plastic case with no writing on it. Matilda sighed. She hated it when children scraped off the lettering and removed the center label. Those tapes had to be checked to be sure they were the correct ones. This one was worse. It didn't even have a labeled jacket to give her a clue.

She turned the volume up so she could hear the music as she went about getting more of her work done. Matilda hummed a tune as she walked around, expecting to hear the theme of a Disney movie or some other family film begin. The movie crackled a bit, and there was a metallic clang of some sort, followed by a low droning voice. She walked around the corner to see what was wrong with the video and froze.

There before her was a woman who was stripped naked and tied to a bed with yellow rope. A man was lying next to her, speaking as he ran the flat of a knife over her body. He spoke of her drug habit, of thefts, and then her blood ran cold as he talked about how she needed to die like all of the others he'd put out of society's misery.

She watched with morbid fascination as he began to make love to her, and screamed moments later as he snapped her neck as if she were nothing more than a turkey he would cook for Thanksgiving dinner. The woman's lifeless eyes stared back at Matilda, as if accusing her of being a voyeur. Matilda began to vomit as he made his first cut.

The old librarian was so tormented that she forgot to turn the gruesome video off as she dialed 911. Her hands shook as she spoke, telling the dispatcher what she'd found. Within minutes, a cruiser had arrived, and along with it came an ambulance. It was well known in the small town that her heart was past its prime, and the dispatcher had needed to call for an ambulance for her only two months ago for a mild heart attack. Even if she wasn't down now, it was anyone's guess as to when the stress would take over.

######################

Alex stood by Mary's bed, her face buried in the sheets as she screamed. Joseph was outside, working his frustrations out on an old barrel. He'd beaten it so the sides were caved in, and now he was working on crushing it…with a sledgehammer.

Doris had taken the older two girls shopping for dresses for Mary's funeral, which left Sam at home with Jethro, his two agents, and two crying, screaming little ones. Allie was even refusing to be comforted by Gibbs today, and determined that she was going to sit by the window and wait for Mama to come back home. Every time someone tried to coax her away, she threw a temper, screaming, crying, kicking, and biting until she was allowed to return to her corner.

Sam had put her in time out twice for biting, and she'd screamed and kicked the wall for twenty minutes until her aunt tired of the noise and let her go back to the window. Telling her that she needed to be quiet for only two minutes hadn't mattered a bit to her. Gibbs wondered if the girls had ever heard of a time out before, or if they'd just been spanked. He figured the latter was the case.

Paul and Frank stepped up and started making lunch, sifting through the meager cupboards and coming up with a concoction they hoped the girls would like. Wieners and beans sounded like a plan, as that seemed to be the main staples in the cupboards. Just as they finished, a knock sounded at the door, and Sam carried a shrieking Alex from the bedroom to the door.

"Hi." She smiled tiredly at the stranger on their porch. "Can I help you?"  
>"Yes." The woman smiled brightly. "I'm from your sister-in-law's church, and we've brought food. May we come in?"<p>

Sam mentally rolled her eyes. After having heard a full hours complaining about Arleen, she didn't want to let these people in, but the fewer meals she had to worry about, the better. Pastor Dave's church had brought breakfast, but he admitted that he forgot to cover their lunch, as he was busy preparing for Mary's funeral. As the man had already gone well above what anyone could be expected to do, she had told him to not worry about it as her mind raced with how she'd fit a shopping trip into the day.

"Sure." Sam pushed the door open, and the boisterous woman came in, her fake smile still plastered on her face.

"Oh, is she upset?" She held her hands out to Alex, and the little girl turned around, hiding as well as she could against her An' Sam.

"She's wanting Mama." Sam patted Alex's back as she stepped further into the kitchen. "You can put things down here."

"Oh, thank you." The woman looked around uncomfortably for a moment, as if deciding what to do. Sam hoped she'd just leave, but that hope died when the woman introduced herself and asked if she could do anything. Apparently she'd been told all about Pastor Dave letting Arleen have it.

"My name's Felicia. Is there anything I can do to help you at this time?"  
>"No." Sam drew the word out slowly, as if thinking. "We're doing as well as we can, and there's nothing else really to do."<p>

"It's a pity the children don't understand what's happened to their mother."

"Meaning?" Sam cocked an eyebrow.

"That she's gone, and won't be coming back. It's a pity the children haven't been taught what heaven and hell are, and that to be absent in the body is to be present with the Lord, or in the everlasting fires of hell. Such a shame." Felicia's eyes portrayed some sort of look that may have been intended to show her compassion, but to Sam, the woman just looked condescending.

"They have been going to church, and they understand that their mother has died. As toddlers, their understanding is limited, and this is their first experience with death. Just like kids in _your_ church, they're having to learn what death is, and how it affects them."

"But they could have been so much better prepared. I'm sorry, what did you say your name was?"  
>"I didn't, and frankly, I'm not likely to tell you. We prepared them as we saw fit. I'm going to ask you to leave."<p>

"I know you're upset, but if I could just share a few comforting verses with you…"  
>Gibbs stood up from where he sat with Allie. He'd stayed quiet, letting Sam handle it, but when the woman started to refuse leaving, he saw that as a "friendly" visit turning into an unwelcome invasion.<p>

"I believe you were just asked to leave." Gibbs stood by Sam, taking Alex when the little girl extended an arm in his direction. He pressed a kiss to her hair. It hung in damp strands against her face, sweaty and messy from her screaming.

"I'm bringing dinner." Felicia became defensive. "The least you can do is listen to the verses I'd like to read."

"You've already shown that your idea of comfort isn't ours." Gibbs growled as much as he could without frightening his precious bundle. "If you're going to lay a cost at our feet for your generosity, then take it and go. We'll eat the hot dogs and beans."

"Well, I never! You're as rude and ungrateful as Arleen warned me you would be."

"Get out of our house." Gibbs spoke through clenched teeth as Paul and Frank stepped into the kitchen from Mary's room, where they'd been boxing up her things.

"Want us to help her out, Director?"

"I think she can find the way out herself, but you may want to carry that crap she made out for her."

"That is meant for you." Felicia's eyes narrowed. "The dishes are all disposable, so feel free to throw them away when you're done." She turned on her heel and stormed out, nearly knocking Joseph off balance as he came in.

He looked after her with a slightly perturbed and yet amused expression.

"Another Wicked Bitch of the West?" Sam rolled her eyes even as she chuckled.

"Watch your mouth around these two. They repeat everything. And yes, she's from your aunt's church."

"Oh, lovely." He finished coming in the door and peeled back the foil over the aluminum pan. "At least it smells good."

"What is it?"  
>"I have no idea." He finished peeling off the cover and tipped it so Sam and Gibbs could see it. "Some sort of casserole."<p>

"Beats hotdogs and beans, Sir." Frank smirked.

"True. Alright, what do you say, Sam?"  
>"Dish it up. I'll go pry Allie from the window."<p>

"Good luck!" Gibbs rolled his eyes and went about setting paper plates out as he asked Joseph to wash up and get silverware out.

In the living room, Allie started to fight as soon as Sam asked her to come eat lunch. The little girl screamed and kicked as Sam toted her into the kitchen and placed her in her booster seat. Gibbs put Alex down into her seat, and she joined her sister in a screaming duet.

Sam and Joseph tried to get the girls to quiet and eat, but there was no doing it. Allie ate all of four bites before crying so hard she got sick, vomiting and choking all over herself, making her cry harder. Alex began screaming and kicking, nearly knocking herself off of her chair.

Gibbs watched helplessly as Sam picked both girls up under her arms and toted them off to the bathroom as he and Joseph cleaned the table, floor, and tried to choke down their own meals. Neither were sure if they should go help. Gibbs finally rose and went to the bathroom, peeking in as he watched Sam strip both of the little ones as the tub was filling.

"What can I do?"  
>"I don't know." Sam's voice broke. "Maybe you can, um, get them some new clothes?"<p>

"Sure." He turned and walked away, his heart breaking at the sound of their screams.

Sam put the girls onto the potty one at a time, and then into the tub. Both screamed the whole time, and their aunt was no longer sure if they were really upset, or if they were screaming simply because it was the only thing they could think to do to relieve their stress.

The girls quieted a bit, but had begun to beg for their Mama, and Sam had to explain once again that she had to go to heaven. Her own eyes filled with tears, which didn't help the girls with theirs. Allie began to push at Alex, which turned into a full on pushing war as Sam tried to drain the water and get them from the tub.

Gibbs stood ready with towels and new clothes, taking Allie into his embrace and enfolding her thrashing limbs in a large, fluffy towel. He held her so her back was to him, his arms under her legs, walking to her bedroom with her as if she were in a chair made from his arms.

"Miye cin Mama! Miye cin Mama! Sni inipi! Miye cin Mama! Ta yanka kal!"

"What is she saying?" Gibbs hollered to Sam over the screams.

"She wants her Mama to come home and you to go away."

"How can I tell her I'm sorry? That I can't make her Mama come home?"

"Ca miye te ice. Nitawa Mama he el mahpiyatu. Oyate in mahpuyatu hiya gli ti yata." Gibbs walked down the hall and repeated it twice to Sam, correcting his pronunciation as needed before returning to the little one he'd deposited on her bed.

He sat down and cradled her close, stroking her temple as he spoke softly, pressing soft kisses to her hair. She listened closely for a moment, her tears subsiding to hiccups and whimpers as Gibbs repeated his phrases once more.

"Ca miye te ice." Another kiss to her bath-tangled hair. "Nitawa Mama he el mahpiyatu." She sighed and whimpered again, receiving a tighter snuggle for her efforts. "Oyate in mahpuyatu hiya gli ti yata."

This went on for a few moments until she whispered a word that he was sure meant "why."

"Sam?" He looked up as she walked into the room with an equally towel bundled Alex, who was still fussing and crying, though not as hard as she'd been a few minutes ago.

"Yeah?" She sat down and began to dry and dress Alex while murmuring quietly to her.

"How do I explain why people can't come back from heaven?"

"How would you have explained it to Kelly?"

"Never thought about it." The adults were quiet for a few minutes, wondering how to answer Allie's question. "I think I'd have told her that Shannon's work was done, and that God had a job in heaven for her."

"Then I'll tell you how to say that, if you want to tell Allie that." Gibbs nodded.

"Mama yuha wowaieco el mahpiyatu. Ki Tunkasila ica eyapaha iyoki Oiye teca wowaieco." (Mama has a new job in heaven. God needs her for His new work.)

"Ecun Mama ecun takunl hecetu sni?" (Did Mama do something wrong?)

"Sni, Allie. Mama he omawaste." (No, Allie. Mama was good.)

"Ka e ohanisca winyan wicake sni he Mama he maka izita?" (That mean woman lied when she said Mama was burning?)

Sam drew in a gasping breath, her eyes filling with tears. Once more, she felt anger toward her sister in law. Gibbs asked what was wrong, and she translated. He held his tiny charge close as he shed tears of his own. How people could be so cruel to children was beyond him. Especially when they'd just lost their mother. They needed love, not this terror.

"Ha, winyan wicake sni." (Yes, she lied.)

Gibbs felt Allie relax against him finally, as if some great weight had come off of her. She yawned, her eyes closing. Gibbs rocked and hummed a quiet lullaby.

"Leksi Gibbs?" (Uncle Gibbs?)

"Hau?" He was thankful that he'd learned at least that much.

"Miye egna iyuskin winyan wicake sni." (I'm glad she lied.)

"Miye, ko." He whispered as he rocked her. Sam looked on with pride. He may not be learning fast, but he was picking up little words. And that meant a lot to her. (Me, too.)

############################################

The girls had been sleeping for nearly an hour when Doris and the older two returned home. Their arrival was heralded by the slamming of a door, angry shouts from one girl to another, and cries from Allie and Alex's room. Sam had been trying to regroup, but this pushed her over the edge.

"Ayustan!" Her voice rang out sharply, stunning her nieces into silence. "Your sisters have been asleep after crying all morning. We're all sad. Stop taking it out on one another. You're sisters. Act like it."

With that, she plowed past them, heading out the door to help Doris carry things in.

"Taku he hecetu sni?" (What's wrong?)

"Okihi inipi ena un kici epi? Ki miye ica hunh tohantu." (Can you stay with them? I need some time.)

"Bla. U ta kupeip yan." (Go. We'll be fine.)

Sam started walking down the road, her arms crossed over her chest as she sped along, nearly running. Gibbs came out, his face a mask of confusion.

"What's…"

"She needs you. Go." Doris pointed with her lips. "I'll call John Quincy, and we'll keep the girls for a few hours. Take care of her."

With a call to Joseph to stop beating the barrel, for it was dead anyway, Doris headed in the house to find out what had gone on. Frank and Paul filled her in on the morning as they comforted the fussing toddlers. Amy and Acheflow sat glaring at one another over the table.

Joseph came in and set down the armload of bags he held, rolling his eyes.

"I need to get out, Unci. I can't take this crying anymore. Please?" His eyes begged her to release him.

"Have you not been outside all morning?"  
>"I need away, Unci. Please. I can't deal with this! They've been crying for months, and it's just worse, and…"<p>

"Go, Joseph. Try to be back by dark."

"Thank you." He left, nearly slamming the door behind him.

"Now, girls, what are you fighting about now?" Both wilted beneath their grandma's glare.

#####################################

"Sam, wait up." She didn't seem to hear him. "Sam!" Her steps finally slowed.

"I can't do this, Gibbs. I can't…"

"Hey, hey." Gibbs wrapped her in a secure hug. "It's hard right now. That's all."

"That's all?" Her voice rose as she felt anger overcome her. "That's all? What else is it supposed to be? How can I explain to my nieces that the mean women have lied to them? That their mom isn't burning forever? How can I get them to stop crying? How can I…"

"You already answered that question, and they took naps, remember?"

"Yes." She collapsed against him once again. "I know. What I don't know is how I'm going to do this. I've never been a mother before, and now I have four little ones."

"And Joseph will need just as much love."

"I know. He may even need more." Gibbs dug his handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her. She stepped back from him so she could clean her face and blow her nose. "Gee. I even mess up your hankie."

"Ah." He shrugged. "You do the laundry." She chuckled.

"What would I do without you?" Her eyes locked on his.

"You'd live your life not knowing you were missing anything."

"I'm being serious."

"As am I." He took her hand and began walking slowly down their empty street. Few people were out in the heat, and those that were raised a hand in greeting.

"Promise me something, Gibbs."

"If I can."

"Promise me you won't stop being my friend, even if I decide we can't be together."

"That I can do." He tugged her behind a tree, pulling her into a hug as he leaned in the shade. "I can promise you that I'll never go anywhere. You're my friend, and that won't change."

"Even if I have to put my wants aside for the kids?"

"Especially then." He cupped her cheek and brought her face up to his. "Of course, I'm going to try to change your mind every single day."

His lips met hers with a chaste kiss. She relaxed into him as she nodded.

"I hope I don't have to choose them over you." Her hands ran through his hair. "I love you, and I want you in my life. So much closer than just a friend."

This time when their lips met, they devoured one another. Hands roamed, breaths mingled, and pulses raced. Their tongues dueled, lips and teeth nipped and bit, while hearts bonded.

"I'll help you raise the girls, Sam. As God is my witness, I'll be there for you every step of the way."

"You can't promise that, Jethro. What if you meet someone and I can't…"

"There's no one else for me, Sam." He pressed another gentle kiss to her. "Friends, lovers, or one day married, I promise you till death do us part."

He held her as she cried. He knew she cried for more than just the rough morning. She was releasing all of the tension of the last few weeks. She was releasing Ellis in ways she'd never thought she'd need to. She was releasing her sister-in-law to eternity. Perhaps the hardest thing she was releasing was the knowledge that she always had home to come back to. She'd always had her in-laws to run to. With the coming of her settlements and the new life and future it offered to the children, she needed to say good bye to this wonderful place.

This wonderful place with its run-down houses and pot-holey roads. This wonderful place where people lived a slower life, with more laughter and games than Gibbs could ever dream of. This wonderful place where people drank diet soda, lite beer, and ate fry-bread as if it was the last thing on earth. This wonderful place she'd always known as _home_.

"I'm so sorry." She finally dried her tears, yet remained ensconced in Jethro's arms.

"Don't be sorry."

"You are more than I deserve." Her hands clutched his shirt. "I don't know if I can even…"

"Hey, I didn't say it to make you feel bad." His hands once again came up to her face. "I said it because I wanted to. And I mean it." He paused. "I'm yours. Not because you taught me to heal, or because you have millions," he winked playfully at her, "But that helps." She rolled her eyes. "I'm yours because I fell in love with you along the way.

"And if that means I'm just a close friend forever, and this is our last kiss, then so be it. That's what I'll be. I want to be with you, Sam. I want to be there to help you with them. I want to help you get school supplies and check out daycares. I want to help you fix up the farm and paint their bedrooms. I want to help pick out furniture and watch them grow up."

"Why? Why are you so accepting? You came all this way, and now I'm telling you we may not be able to be together. If you're doing it to make me feel better right now, don't. I don't want to have my heart broken like that. If you're going to walk, do it now."

"I'm not walking, Sam. I promise." He dropped to his knees. "I, Jethro Gibbs, promise to love, honor, cherish you in sickness and health, in gladness and sorrow, in poverty and wealth, so long as I live. I can't promise you more than that." Sam sank beside him, leaning on him as she wept.

"I love you, Jethro."

"It's enough, then. Whatever happens, it's enough."


	81. Chapter 81

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar for being my amazing beta, and to everyone who has favorited, alerted, and reviewed! If I missed replying to any reviews, I'm so sorry!

Note: My apologies for how long it took to get this chapter up. Real life totally got in the way.

################################

Sam and Gibbs sat beneath the shade until she was somewhat relaxed. When she yawned and leaned against his shoulder, he motioned for her to move between his legs. She moved, leaning against him, his arms wrapped around her as she napped.

When she woke, the sun had gone down a bit, telling her that at least two hours had passed. She stretched, running her hands along Gibbs' arms.

"Hm." He kissed her ear. "Sleep well?" She hummed an answer, tipping her head back to press a light kiss to his neck.

"You?"

"Nah. I was enjoying the scenery." Sam chuckled at him. There was nothing to look at but a rundown house without a roof and a tree that had been struck by lightening several years before.

"You're such a goof."

"That's why you love me."

"Not entirely. But it helps." They were quiet for a bit, just watching a bird as it circled around a mouse that ran from bush to bush. "We should get back."

"Just a while more, Sam. You need to rest."

"Doris will need help."

"She called John Quincy. They can handle the girls for a bit." He smiled a bit as Sam yawned.

"Ok, but we should at least walk."

"You just can't rest, can you?" She heard the laughter in his voice, and wondered for a moment if she shouldn't settle back and sit just to prove him wrong.

"I can. I just don't want to." Gibbs threw his head back and laughed, holding her closer to him for a moment before playfully pushing her away.

"Fine, get up then."

"I see how you are. Get what you want and then push me away."

"Yep. Got any more questions as to my divorces?"  
>"That's not funny, Jethro."<p>

"Really? I thought it was hysterical."

############################

Howard sat in a dingy motel room, eyes glued to the television. His video had been found at long last. He'd dropped it off on Saturday morning, not thinking that the tiny library wouldn't be open until Monday. As the anchors talked about the video and its gruesome contents, he felt himself become aroused.

His hand ran down the front of his pants as he took a slow sip of the beer he held in his other hand. His fingers ghosted down his sac, making him moan as he thought of Veronica and the things she'd done to that sensitive part of his anatomy.

Ten minutes later, he sat naked on the couch, sweat shining on his body as he panted through his release. He watched the newscaster with increasing interest. She was a beautiful blonde, the exact opposite of his sun kissed and dark-eyed Veronica. He needed a woman. Now. And he wanted her.

He dressed quickly and took off down the street, passing corners with hookers on them until he spotted one he wanted. She was beautiful. She was buxom. She was blonde. And she was for rent.

"You looking for a girlfriend, honey?"

"Just for the night."

"Then I'm your girl."

"What's your name?"

"How about you tell me what my name is, Big Boy." She winked as she ran her hand down his shirt to his belt.

"Veronica." Howard licked his lips. "Your name's Veronica."

"Then take me home, baby. You know who I am, and I just need to know what you like."

"Walk with me, then." Howard gave her his sexiest smile. "I've got a room about three blocks from here."

"Oh, I have to wait that long?" The hooker's eyes turned puppy doggish in seconds, and Howard felt his nether regions react.

"Trust me," he whispered into her ear. "I'll make the wait worth your while."

"Do you promise?"

"Believe me, baby." He pulled her close, letting him feel his arousal. "You know how they say orgasm means "little death"?"

"Yes, I've heard that."

"Come along, and I'll show you what a little death really is."

#############################

Joseph had run through every emotion he thought existed in the history of mankind, and he wasn't sure he was done yet. Right now, he was angry. Beyond angry. He didn't have a word for how he felt. Betrayed, hurt, abused, used, abandoned… those were good places to start. But they still didn't cover how he felt.

The wind picked up a bit and blew his hair once more, making it flop over his shoulder as if it was mocking him. Hair. Hair is for honor, for life, for joy. His mother's hair was going to be burned at her wokiksuye kicagapi, and he felt wrong for having his still attached to his head.

He knew his grandfather was hoping he would be the mourner for his family, and as he walked, he decided that yes, he would take on that responsibility. He would begin making lists of everything in the house, and deciding which friends and family members what possessions would go to. He and his sisters would be destitute when he finished, but it was a time honored tradition, and the best way he could think to honor his mother.

He had a year to spend getting things ready. The final dinner and sending off of her spirit would be in one year. There was work to be done. However, there was something he needed to take care of first.

In two days, his mother would be buried according to her new Christian faith. It seemed fitting that she would be honored in a way that was worthy of her. With a sigh, he pulled the folding knife he kept in his pocket out and knelt by a stream.

His voice floated on the wind as he sang a soft prayer. He gasped quietly as the knife made its first cut. His second cut made a greater slice, and he held back his tears. It was as if things were becoming real the further he cut. As he finished, he looked down at the long lengths of hair that moments ago adorned his head.

With another prayer, he sent it down the stream. He came from the Earth, and to the Earth his hair returned.

########################################

Sam and Doris looked out the window and then back to one another. It was nearly dusk, and Joseph had been gone for hours.

"Do you want me to go looking for him?" Gibbs stood with his car keys in hand. Frank stood just behind him, already getting ready to go with him.

"Give him a bit longer." Sam bit her lip as she answered. Five minutes later, she and Paul headed in one direction as Gibbs and Frank headed in the other. Gibbs grumbled about having the company, and Frank griped about being grumbled about.

All four searchers had flashlights, as the dark was closing in rapidly. Gibbs walked along the road, his eyes searching off into the distance for any shapes that would resemble Joseph. They'd walked for nearly twenty minutes when Frank's cell phone rang.

"Yes?"

"We found him." Paul spoke quietly. "Get Gibbs over here. Sam could use his help."

"Everything ok?"

"Yeah, but the kid's having a hard time. He needs some help."

"Ok, I'll tell him." Gibbs turned questioning eyes to his partner. Moments later, they were jogging carefully in the dusky light according to the directions Paul was giving them.

###############################

Joseph had lost track of the time as he sat. His knees had grown stiff in the cold, and his stomach ached from the force of his sobs. He'd given up trying to move so long ago, and yet he was tired of being in the same position. However, when he tried to move, his sorrow held him captive.

He heard the soft footsteps approaching and struggled to calm himself. He wasn't supposed to cry. He was grown now, and as his dad always told him, men didn't cry. They showed sorrow in different ways, but tears were for children, women, and weak men. He couldn't be weak now. His sisters needed someone, and he knew his Aunt Sam had so much of her own going on, and his grandparents were getting older. That left him.

Sam sat beside him, simply wrapping her arm around his shivering shoulders. She felt him trying to hold in his sobs, yet the more he fought his tears, the harder he shook with them. He finally gave up and held himself tighter as he wept.

He barely noticed when Gibbs sat beside him, but he slowly tuned into the quiet conversation they were having literally behind his back.

"…he's so cold. We need to get him back to the house."

"Not until he's ready. He needs to get this out." Joseph felt shame whip through him. Not only had he cried before An' Sam, but now he'd done it in front of Uncle Gibbs. How much more weakness was the guy going to accept from him before he walked off?

To his surprise, the silver haired man sat on his other side, his shoulder just touching Joseph's. He didn't speak, as was his usual style, but the calm radiating off of him was tinged with understanding, and Joseph felt his chest draw tight once more.

"Let it out, son." Gibbs' voice was quiet. "Holding it in only makes you feel worse."

Joseph scoffed quietly, his tears coming to a momentary end. Gibbs glanced over at Sam, who shrugged. She had no idea, either.

"Tell me what's wrong, Joseph." Sam rubbed her nephew's shoulders.

"I'm pissed, I'm sad, and I want to be alone." He glared at her, his eyes narrowed.

"Too bad, kiddo." Gibbs sat back, leaning on his hands behind him. "It's dark, and your grandparents were getting frantic, and your sisters aren't happy, either. So we're staying with you for a while."

Joseph rolled his eyes and tried to stand, only to have his legs cramp on him and give out. He fell forward with a strangled shout of anger. His fist pounded into the ground for a moment before he finally gave up and rolled over, looking up into the sky, refusing to meet anyone's eyes.

"Ya gotta talk to us, son." Gibbs' voice was quiet.

"Talk? Seriously? No one has wanted to hear a word I've said before."

"What do you mean, Joseph?" Sam sat forward. "What have we missed?"

"I offered to stay here, stay with the girls, and noooo." He shook his head. "That's not good enough. You're taking them away from here. They've lost Dad, granted, he's no great loss, but now we've lost Mom, and next thing, they're going to lose everything and everyone they know.

"I offer to stay here with them, and I get shot down. Don't even get a chance to explain how I'd make things work. No. They're just gone. Like I'm some dumb kid that can't cook a meal or clean a house." He sat up, his eyes radiating anger. "I've been doing all of it, An' Sam, and I've been doing a pretty damn good job, I think."

"You have done well, Joseph." Sam nodded. "Better than most men your age would have."

"Then why the fuck are you taking them away? Don't you think…" He broke off, his voice catching.

"Don't I think what, Joseph?" Gibbs bit his tongue as Sam spoke, knowing that his "nephew" needed to get this out, but he was ready to shout over his word choice.

"Don't you think they've been through enough? Don't you think they deserve to stay here? Where they know people? Where life isn't as complicated?"

"What are you worried about, Joey? What's got you so torn up. I know it's just not the move."

"Augh!" Joseph shouted into his aunt's face, and Gibbs nearly shook him, but stopped at Sam's hand on his arm. "You don't get it! You just don't get it!"

"I would if you'd tell me!" The two sat staring one another down. Sam willing him to talk, and Joseph willing her to leave.

"I'm failing everyone, An' Sam! Your life is going to be ruined by needing to take care of the girls. You won't be able to do whatever it is you want to do now that you've got money. You won't have the time to farm if you take them. You won't be able to travel like you and Uncle Ellis used to talk about doing." He looked off to the side, his jaw tight with the effort to not shout.

"I'm willing to do this, Joseph. I want to."

"WHY?" He thundered in response. "Why? Because my mom stayed with a drunken fuck up? Because my father is a waste of breath? Because you're worried I'll end up like him? I won't! I promise I won't! Just because my mom died doesn't mean I'm useless!" His fists balled up. "I'm able to do this! I'm a fucking adult!"

"Yeah, you are." Gibbs stepped in, not sure if he'd pay for his intrusion later. "You're an adult who needs to make his own life, and not clean up his parents messes."

"Messes?" Joseph's eyes flew wide. "You calling my sisters messes? I'll show you a mess, you asshole."

"Hold on, son, I'm not calling anyone a mess. I'm calling situations messes. If your dad was responsible, your mom would have been able to go to the doctor sooner. If your mom wasn't working trying to keep your family out of poverty, then she would have taken better care of herself."

"If I wasn't away at school, then I could have helped." He glared angrily at Gibbs. "I got it."

"No, if you didn't go off to school, you'd be stuck in the same cycle. You'd be getting married with no education, no money, and no way out of this life. Your father chose to be a bum. You don't want to do that." Gibbs got right into Joseph's face. "You gonna tell me that you'll be happy in ten, fifteen years when the girls are grown and married off to no good, uneducated morons that you made the right decision to quit school and raise them?"

"We're. Not. Morons."

"No, you're not. Those girls can go one hundred miles from any reservation and pick up any man they see, white, black, blue, or polka dotted, but if they see nothing but this kind of life, they'll want to achieve nothing but this life.

"Your An' Sam isn't taking the girls because you're not doing things right, or because you're not man enough. She's taking them so you can go after your dreams, and they can create theirs without limits. Look around you, Joseph. Really look. What do you see?"

"Poverty." Joseph's eyes fell to his lap. "I know. Everybody's poor. It's just the way life is."

Gibbs opened his mouth to start speaking again, only to find his arm tapped by Sam once more. He looked over to her, and she shook her head, letting him know she wanted her turn. With a resigned sigh, he snapped his mouth shut, his lecture begging to be allowed beyond his lips.

"You're not losing them, Joseph." Gibbs narrowed his eyes at her words. The kid wasn't worried about losing them. He knew his aunt well enough to know that he was more like a son than most natural born children ever were. "You are an important part of their lives, and you're the son of my heart. That will never change."

Joseph's face crumbled, and he laid his head on his knees. His sides shook as he cried. His words came out fast and mumbled, interspersed with gasps. Sam moved forward and cradled him against her. Gibbs felt himself moving, not entirely sure of his purpose, until he put his hand on Joseph's hair. The boy leaned heavily on him, his arms going over Gibbs' shoulders as he held on tightly.

"It's not fair." The words were fairly whispered in his uncle's ear. "It's not fair. Why did she die? What did we do that was so bad? Why did she have to die?"

"You didn't do anything wrong, kiddo. If anyone messed up, it was your dad. Everyone has their time, and it was just hers." Gibbs whispered a reply, understanding with a look to Sam that she wasn't able to answer his questions right now.

The three of them cried together, with Gibbs shedding tears for the family he'd come to care so much about. There was so much pain, and he felt powerless against it.

"I'm sorry I wasn't a better son, and that I'm not stronger now." Joseph started to keen his words, mixing languages in his grief. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I can't take care of the girls, and that I'm letting you down, Mama. I'm so sorry."

"You're not letting her down, son." Gibbs ran his hand over Joseph's hair. "You're doing so well, and giving so much, and you were there for her every day while she was here. You've been a great son. You're still being one."

"No, I'm not." Joseph's argument came out with a hiccup. "If I was good, I'd not be crying like this. I'd be strong for the girls. I'd be…"

"Bullshit." Sam's voice didn't hold any malice, but her words were sharp. "Everyone needs to cry. Do you think Uncle Ellis didn't cry when he found out he was dying? Do you think I didn't cry when he passed? Do you think I've not cried since your mom died?" She put her hands on his face and pulled him up to look at her.

"I've cried, Mister. I've cried a lot. Crying doesn't make you weak. Crying gives you the relief that you need to make it through another day. Sometimes another hour. Don't feel like you have to carry the weight of your sisters, Honey. They're going to cry, and so will you. It's ok."

He nodded. Sam waited, not sure if he was going to have a new argument.

"I want to be the mourner for her." He turned tortured eyes to her. "Do you think Tunkasila will allow me to do that, or do you think he wants…"

"I think that's something you need to talk to him about." Sam wiped the tears from under his eyes. "I don't know what he wants to do, but I think he'd really appreciate the offer."

"Ok, so I'll talk to him tomorrow."

"Maybe tonight? I know he's up, and he will be for a while. I think you two should spend some time together. He can help you, you know."

"I know, but I don't want to bother him. He's…"

"Got so much to deal with, and he's just lost another child, I know." Sam smiled gently. "But I think he'd really like it if you showed him that you still need him. Go to him for advice, and make your offer. It'll help more than you know."

"Talking to him about this ache in me will help him?" Joseph cocked an eyebrow. "Sometimes you old people are nuts."

"Hey." Gibbs tapped the back of his head. "I'm older than your aunt. Watch it."

With the tension lifted for the moment, Gibbs and Sam helped Joseph back to his feet. His legs buckled once, and Paul and Frank stepped up to help. The two men made a chair out of their arms and carried him up the embankment, until he was on the flat road and could make slow progress from there.

He expected a long lecture from his grandparents, and complaints from his sisters. Instead, he found a warmed plate from dinner and hot coffee. His sisters were already in bed, having been told that Joseph just needed a long walk, and that he'd be back tomorrow. When he told his grandfather that he needed to talk, he watched as the light that had been so dim rose in the old man's eyes.

Perhaps An' Sam had been right. He didn't need to carry the weight of the family by himself. He'd been given a family, and even though they were hurting, now was the time to lean on one another. And he could lean just as much as everyone else. Leaning felt good. Even better, it felt safe.


	82. Chapter 82

Disclaimer : I don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger, my amazing beta! Love you!

Note : The funeral part should be translated, but I'm being lazy, and don't want to write things twice. Please "understand" that the entire section contains little to no English spoken. Thanks for understanding! My poor brain just can't do it today. Lol

Note : I also started a blog, in which I'm recording recipes and some "eww" experiments as I learn how to cook according to my new dietary needs, which include absolutely no grains, dairy, or nuts. Those food groups act like a poison to me, and are the root cause of my health troubles. I invite you to come and check it out! Its location is : gotgoats grain free dot com. (all one word, but the site won't put it up like that, and the dot is a period, of course) Thanks!

########################################

Sam stood after she finished tying the bow on the back of Acheflow's pretty new dress. The girl twirled once before breaking down with heart-wrenching tears once more.

"I want Mama to see me." Gibbs came to the door, holding Alex in one arm, with Allie's arms wrapped around his opposite leg. His suit was pressed and ready for him to change into, and he just needed to drop the girls with Sam for a few minutes, and then he'd take them so she could get ready.

Amy bent and picked Allie up, asking Gibbs to excuse her as she stepped past.

"Sure, Amy." Gibbs gave her a quick side hug, kissing her head. "You doing ok?"

"I think so." Her voice caught. "I don't really want to go. Like, I want to, because I don't want to not say goodbye, but I don't want to…"

"See her?" Amy nodded. "We'll go to the casket with you, ok? You won't be alone."

"Thanks, Uncle Gibbs." Jethro handed Alex off before heading down the hall to Joseph's room to get ready.

He paused in the door, watching unnoticed as the younger man struggled with his tie. Joseph growled as the tail was once again longer than the front part, and he untied it, trying once more to get it right. When he failed once again, Joseph ripped the tie from his neck, balling it up, angrily throwing it into the trash basket.

"Here." Gibbs stepped up beside him, bending over to pick his crumpled tie up. "You just about had it."

"I can't get this stupid thing." Joseph stared at the tie as if it were a snake. "I don't understand why I can't wear my good ribbon shirt."

"As soon as you put on your suit coat, the ribbons will be hidden."

"Fine." Joseph grabbed the tie once again. "Show me how to do this damn thing."

"Start off with the bigger part on the right." Gibbs settled the tie on Joseph's neck. "Now you take this big end and wrap it over and under the smaller end. See how that goes?"

"Yeah. I had it backwards."

"Yep, it happens. Next, you'll push this big part up and then down through the loop it made when you wrapped the big end around the little end."

"Hm." Joseph looked down, scowling. "The end is still sticking out of the bottom." He picked the tie from his chest and showed it to Jethro.

"Yeah, so now we adjust it a bit. That's all. No need to untie it."

"Who taught you to do this? You go to one of those schools where boys have to wear these things?"  
>"Nope." Gibbs chuckled. "My dad taught me when I turned 15 and wanted to take this pretty girl to a party."<p>

"Wish my dad had taught me. Woulda made this morning easier."

"Yeah, but then I wouldn't have been able to figure out what a ribbon shirt is." Joseph rolled his eyes.

"You Anglos are so weird."

"We are. I admit it." Gibbs tapped Joseph's head. "Just wanted to tell you how proud of you I am." Joseph looked at him questioningly. "You did a great job with your mom, and then you did even more with taking care of your sisters." Gibbs buttoned the tiny buttons on Joseph's collar, ensuring that his tie would stay in place and not make his collar rise. "You're going to make a great vet, Joseph. You care, and you pay attention to what's going on around you." Their eyes met, brown eyes just as serious as the blue that stared back. "You're an amazing young man, and I'm proud to have you as my nephew."

###################################

Sam, Joseph, Amy, and Acheflow slowly approached Mary's casket. The children had been asked to pick the color from the choices of dusty rose, dusky blue, baby blue, or a light yellow. Mary now lay in a dusty rose casket with a cream satin inset, surrounded with baby's breath and miniature roses.

"She looks like a princess." Acheflow whispered the last words she'd speak that day.

"She is beautiful. You kids made a wonderful choice for your mom." Sam wrapped her arms around the two girls, letting Joseph join them with his arm over her shoulders, enclosing Amy between them. "I think she'd really like this, and she'd love being so pretty."

They stood in silence for a bit, the children all thinking their own thoughts. Sam finally nodded to Gibbs, who stood with Allie and Alex in his arms. The little girls were balanced on his hips, and clung tightly to his shoulders, with Alex grasping his tie in her tiny hand.

As he neared Mary, the girls started to cry, with Allie bursting into short, panting screams moments later. Their tears seemed to break the stoic resolve of their older siblings, and soon all five children were showing their grief.

Gibbs rocked back and forth, calmly comforting the littlest ones while Sam helped the older.

"Death is a part of life. Every person and thing is born, and they have their time. I have my time, you have your time, and your mom had her time. I don't know why her time is over, but I know she did her job, and that was to have five beautiful, wonderful children."

Pastor Dave had been hanging back, not wanting to intrude on their final goodbye to Mary, but a glance from Sam let him know his presence would be welcome. He pulled Joseph to him in a tight hug while one of his hands rested on Amy's shoulder.

"Death is never easy." Dave spoke quietly. "And we want to say it's not fair. I want to say that, because I see how much this hurts you." He was quiet as he gathered his thoughts again. "I don't know why God decided it was her time to leave us, but I do know He has a reason. And He's not left you alone. You have your family, and you have your church family. None of us will ever be able to take the place of your mom, but we'll all be willing to help. We'll be here for you, just like we have been."

"Thanks, Pastor." Joseph looked his friend in the eye. "How do we say goodbye? I've never had anyone die before. There are so many things I want to say…" His voice broke.

"Take as much time as you need." Dave looked at each of them. "I know you'll think of things to say, and some of them you won't be able to, or you'll think of later. You can still say them. She'll hear you."

"She can hear?" Allie stopped crying and looked at her mother. "Then why are we gonna stick her in the ground?"

"Everyone has an Earth-suit, just like you have princess clothes. And when someone goes to heaven, their spirit, which is inside, goes to heaven, and their Earth-suit stays here." Allie looked confused for a moment, so he explained a little more. "The real you isn't your body, sweetheart. The real you is your thoughts, and your feelings, and your will. That part goes to heaven. The clothes your real you wears is your body. And when the real you leaves, your body dies. And we put the body in the ground."

"The real her is in heaven?"

"Yes, Allie. The real her is in heaven. This is just her Earth-suit. We can cry, and we can miss her, but we don't have to be afraid that she's just stopped…being."

The children all nodded. There wasn't much comfort in that thought at the moment, but it was something. And thinking of the body before them as the leftover "clothing" of their mom helped Amy get through the funeral as they sat in the front row. Relatives they'd never heard of, friends they knew, and some they were certain were strangers, came through to pay their respects before the service began.

############################

Food was piled high in dishes as Sam and Gibbs hunted for containers to send leftovers home with John Quincy and Doris. The elderly couple had sat quietly during their daughters' funeral, Doris' dull and pain-filled eyes lending more eloquence to their sorrow than any words they could have spoken.

Even now, as they sat with their grandchildren relaxing after the harrowing day, they were far from their usual selves. John Quincy had joined Acheflow in silence. Doris talked quietly with Joseph and Amy, covering any subject they could think of to keep the heavy, oppressive silence from overtaking the room.

The two littlest girls sat playing in the corner with their dolls, mostly offering comfort to their "babies". Allie sang little songs, and Alex huddled close by, still confused by the events of the day. Paul sat with them, serving them "tea" to help them have a more normal evening. Frank had been put in charge of stripping and remaking beds, and he found that he enjoyed the solitude from the sorrow.

He wasn't sure of why Sam wanted clean bedding for the children at first, so he'd raised an eyebrow as he nodded. She showed him to the linen closet, explaining to him that Mary had always changed their beds on Tuesday night. And it was Tuesday.

"_I want them to feel like life is going to go on, Frank. It's something little, but it may help them relax." She'd stepped back after showing him how to fold the sheets so they fit the thin mattresses correctly. "I found comfort in the little things when Ellis died. I hope they can, too."_

It had been an hour since that conversation, and he was nearly finished with the last bed. He'd taken his time, making sure each of the beds was done exactly right. He couldn't imagine what it would be like if his wife passed and he was alone with his children and heartache. The man gained a new respect for Joseph and how he'd cared for his family in the past few months, and he also found a new level of respect for Sam. Gibbs was lucky to have someone like her in his life.

Frank walked back into the kitchen after finishing his chore to find the kitchen empty. The sink was still piled high with soaking pans and serving utensils, but Sam was nowhere to be found. Gibbs must have finally talked her into resting. She'd not stopped once all day.

The sun was beginning to go down, and the one bulb over the table kept the kitchen lit enough that the last bit of graying light didn't make the room entirely dark. He picked a can of soda out of the cooler that had been keeping several of them cold since the early afternoon and pushed it back under the table so it was no longer in the way. Frank popped the top and drank slowly, enjoying the quiet buzz of conversation he could hear in the next room.

There wasn't much he could see, but he could see enough to know Allie had climbed into Gibbs' lap. It looked like Sam had Alex held as if she were drinking a bottle, but since the girl was nearly two and he'd not seen a single bottle in the house, he doubted that was the case. He finished his drink and tossed the empty can into the can under the sink.

Amy sat cuddled against her grandma, her eyes drooping and then flying open, as if she were afraid to sleep for fear of missing anything. Alex was settled down on Sam's lap with her head on one of Sam's arms and her feet dangling off of her aunt's opposite leg. Frank hid a smile when he took in his boss.

The older man was sitting with his feet up on one of the two foot rests in the room, with John Quincy at the other end of the couch with his feet propped on the other. Joseph sat between the two men, his eyes closed as he leaned slowly in sleep to his right, his head only fractions of an inch from Gibbs' shoulder. Allie had settled herself in Gibbs' lap, and had her thumb firmly tucked into her mouth as she slept and drooled on his sweatshirt.

Gibbs himself had his head resting on the couch behind him, his eyes closed, and his breathing deep. There was no doubt that the man was asleep, and Frank figured that he'd earned it. He'd kept pace with Sam all day, helping where and when he could, including driving the flowers from the funeral over to the nursing home to be shared with the residents.

"Where's Paul?" Frank whispered.

"He's doing a check outside." Sam answered back, her voice just as quiet.

"Good. I think I'll go catch a few minutes of shut-eye, and then I'll take the first guard tonight. Can you tell him that?"

"Sure. Is it really necessary?"

Frank nodded. "Yep. The director of a federal agency and his family are here. We're miles from law enforcement, and it's our job. It's necessary."

"Alright. I just don't want you guys getting sick because you're not sleeping well enough." Frank simply smiled at her as he left the room, nodding to John Quincy and Doris on his way out.

"The men are nice." Doris spoke, her voice lilting and in the tongue Sam loved best.

"Yes, they are."

"Especially Gibbs." Doris winked. "He's going to be a good uncle for them. I'm glad you have one another." Sam felt her face flush with heat. She looked down as Alex snuffled and resettled, and felt heat flood her face once again. She'd not even thought to correct Frank when he said "the director and his family" were here. She shouldn't take things for granted. Not even today.

But they were cute. Sam smiled and pulled out the camera Mary had received for Christmas two years before from its hiding place in the end table drawer. She turned it on and snapped a picture, smiling sheepishly at John Quincy, who simply nodded his approval.

######################

Matilda lay still for the third straight day. She'd suffered a heart attack shortly after watching the video of Veronica's murder, and her daughter had been at her side since. Dorothy turned the page on her current book and continued reading.

"If all the world hated you and believed you wicked, while your own conscience approved of you and absolved you from guilt, you would not be without friends."

Sheriff Paul Tomkins paced out in the hall, fuming. As Dorothy MacKendricks sat reading Jane Eyre, he was waiting for some federal agents to show up. He grumbled, thinking of ways he could keep the investigation in-house. He had a point to prove, and he needed to solve this murder to make it. Half of the town had decided he was too young to serve as their sheriff, and he needed to prove himself.

The doors at the end of the hall that doubled as the emergency room entrance slid open, admitting four people dressed in black pants, white shirts, and dark navy blue jackets with FBI emblazoned on them. Tomkins rolled his eyes and went to greet them.

_Play nice, and maybe they'll leave._ He nearly snickered at his own thoughts. _Yeah, right._


	83. Chapter 83

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS.

Note: Thanks to my amazing beta, Headbanger Rockstar. Love you!

Note: My apologies for not getting back to you if I forgot anyone… Life has been kicking my butt lately. Thanks for reading and keeping up with the story! You guys (ok, mostly girls) are amazing! This chapter is a little weird…but it needs to be for the story line. Just trust me. And my lack of sleep. Lol

##################

James Penderson looked at the young sheriff and nearly snickered. He'd seen some small-town cops who tried to act like big shots, but this boy was in the running for first prize. Within twenty minutes of arriving at the hospital with the hopes of interviewing the witness, the FBI agents had been put through a course of nonsense aimed solely at letting them know who was really in charge. This was Paul Tomkins' territory, and he wasn't happy about sharing.

James wondered if the kid would change his tune in a few minutes. They'd found a body, and unless Sheriff Tomkins wanted to leave his fair state, he'd need to hand over the evidence. Penderson just hoped they'd followed proper procedures for collection, labeling and storage. After the incident of the janitor's closet in another small burg, none of them wanted to waste their time redoing basic paperwork with contaminated evidence. There was a serial killer on the loose, and so far the guy seemed to be after anyone. Man or woman, it made no difference to this sick bastard.

###################

John Quincy, Doris, Sam, and Gibbs sat around the table, coffee before them. They'd been making plans for the past three hours, and had reached a grid-lock. Three of them felt it was in the children's best interest to let them start the school-year with their friends, and move after they'd had a chance to see everyone and say their goodbyes. This would also give them time with their grandparents, who were worried about having them so far away.

One was determined to head back to DC with the entire family, emotional considerations be damned. Kelly had moved at least four times in her life, up and down the seaboard, and she'd never complained once. Moving was part of life, and he was sure Sam's nieces would make friends just as quickly as Kelly had always done.

"The older girls should stay in their school until Christmas, I'm thinking." Sam bit her lip. "They'll want to say good-bye to their friends, and I think it'll be good for them to spend some time with you two as well." Here she nodded to her in-laws. "Besides, that will give me time to finish getting the custody papers in order, and find a school I like. They're going to have so many changes, that I'm almost thinking that they should stay here until the end of the school year, and move in the summer."

Doris nodded. "Fewer culture shocks that way." She remembered her time as a child in a missionary school. They'd been loaded on a bus and sent to towns where they knew no one and could barely speak to anyone until they improved their English. To her, it had been the stuff of nightmares.

"I'm not happy about leaving them." Gibbs sat back, folding his arms across his chest.

"Why? It's not like they've not cared for them." Sam matched her friend's position, looking as defensive as he did.

"I know they have." His voice was cool and calm, and grated on Sam's nerves. He obviously was obviously irritated, and Sam wished he'd just say his piece. "They're now in your care, and as you recently won millions after having had multiple troubles, I don't think leaving them here in an impoverished area is a good idea."

"Oh, really." Sam's voice dripped the anger she felt.

"Do you have a problem with bringing them home?" Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "Leaving them here just endangers them. The first thing that comes to mind is kidnapping. Need I give you the stats for kidnapped children being returned? Believe me, they're not good."

"They're not going to be in danger, Jethro." Her voice dropped lower, and John Quincy nodded to his wife. They stood, exiting the kitchen just as Sam stood to storm out of the house.

"Where are you going?"

"Away from you and your idiocy."

"My idiocy?" Gibbs followed, hot on her heels. "My _idiocy_? Need I remind you that you've just become a multi-millionaire? You've also just taken custody of four minor children, two of whom you plan to leave here."

"Why is it such a big deal to you? They'll need time to say their goodbyes', they'll need time with their grandparents, and this move is going to be hard. Over Christmas, I can take them out into the city and show them things before they start school. Maybe even give them an extra weeks' break. What is your problem?"

"My problem is that they'll be targets." Gibbs shouted, his anger finally taking over. "My problem is that you're not seeming to pay any attention to the safety concerns!"  
>"My problem is that you're not listening, Mr. High and Mighty Director!" He stepped into her space, and she pushed him back. "Don't. Just get the hell away from me."<p>

"I'm not going anywhere, Samantha." Jethro's voice became eerily calm.

"Don't. Call. Me. Samantha." Sam spoke through clenched teeth.

"So I'll call you Dumbass."

"Asshole." She turned and stormed away from him.

"We're ALL leaving Saturday, Sam."  
>"Like hell we are, Leroy Jethro Gibbs!"<p>

"Why can't you just be reasonable?"  
>"REASONABLE? You want REASONABLE?" Sam screeched as she stomped closer to him, getting right into his face. "They've just lost their mother. Who the hell knows where their father is, and they're going to be moving away from anyone and anything they've ever known. Reasonable is to give them a while to get used to the changes. Reasonable is letting them have time with their grandparents. REASONABLE, Mr. Gibbs, is what I'm being."<p>

"No, you're being sentimental. It's not the same!" Gibbs thundered back, his voice echoing off of the house as he shouted. "You're going to leave them here, and leave them in danger, dammit! I want to keep them safe! That's all I want for my nieces."

"They're not your nieces, Jethro." Sam's eyes narrowed. "And at the rate you're going right now, they never will be."

"Don't do this, Sam." Gibbs backed down, not wanting to anger her any further.

"Fuck off, Jethro." With that, she turned away.

She heard him call after her, but jogged on, refusing to let her tears fall until she was alone. Part of her could see the wisdom in his words, but the other part of her was bound by a promise that she'd made to Mary. Sam had promised to look after the girls, and that included more than just keeping them fed and clothed. In that promise, was their emotional and mental well-being. And if he couldn't understand that, then she had her answer where their relationship was concerned.

#############

Jethro walked back into the house, not sure of how he should proceed. It was obvious that they'd been fighting when they walked out, and he was returning alone. He felt like he was walking into the lions' den. Little did he know, but Sam was the least of his worries. He'd angered Doris, and she was about to make Sam look tame.

The older woman was standing at the sink peeling potatoes, and barely spared him a glance as he entered. He ducked his head in greeting to John Quincy, who stared back at him, seeming to be surprised to see the silver haired man.

"Where is my daughter?" Doris turned around, drying her hands on a towel she had hanging from her waist.

"She's taking a walk."

"And you let her go off like that." Doris scoffed. "Mr. High and Mighty, Mr. I Know All, let her, the one who actually has the money in this family, just walk off? Aren't you worried about her being kidnapped? How about hurt? Hm? Or is it that my husband and I are too old to care for them?"

Gibbs knew that no matter what answer he gave, he was in for it. However, walking back out of the house seemed an even more foolish option. He opened his mouth, and then shut it, thinking better of his words.

"Oh, I see. Suddenly you're speechless." John Quincy smirked into his coffee, shooting Joseph an amused glance. They had both been on the end of one of her tirades more than once, and knew how low she could make someone feel.

"I'm not sure of what to say."

"Well, then maybe next time, you should keep your mouth shut, and not interfere where you don't belong." Doris narrowed her eyes. "My Sam likes you. She likes you a lot. Perhaps even loves you. Just because my son is gone, doesn't mean she's not my daughter anymore."

The short woman walked forward, jabbing Gibbs in the chest with her index finger, accenting her words.

"Make this right. I don't know what you said, or why you said it. But she needs support, and that doesn't include _you_ telling her how to run her life, or her family." Gibbs blanched slightly.

"That's right, _Di-rector Gibbs._ They're _her_ children now, _not_ yours, and she can raise them any way she chooses. If you're gonna suddenly get all Anglo and better-than-us, you and your men can pack up your things and go. None of us, Sam included, need that right now."

With that, Doris turned her back on the stunned man. He opened his mouth to explain himself, but John Quincy merely shook his head at him. Jethro hung his head in defeat and went to find Sam.

She wasn't hard to find, for which he was grateful. She was only about twenty feet from where Joseph had been, sitting on a rock by the stream, seeming to be lost in thought. Her eyes were puffy from crying, and as she lifted a hand to wipe her face, he realized she'd not finished yet. Guilt coursed through him. He'd not meant to hurt her, or to prove his bastard "joke" wasn't a joke.

"Hey." Her head snapped up, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him.

"What do you want?"

"To tell you that I was wrong." He sat on the bank, his arms wrapped around his bent knees.

"Hm." She rolled her eyes. "Let me guess. Doris yelled at you."

"Yeah. She loves you, that's for sure."

"So you're not really sorry. You're here so you can save your ass."

"Sam, let me explain."

"Why should I? Why should I sit here and listen to you, when you're here only because Doris made you come? You're not even here because you want to be."

Gibbs sighed, closing his eyes. He'd never seen Sam this angry. Well, he had, but certainly not at him. He'd always told DiNozzo he never wanted to face the woman's wrath, and boy, had he unleashed it.

"I'm not sure I understand why you want the girls to stay here, and I know I don't like it." He held his hand up to stop her from interrupting him. "But you're right. They're your family, not mine, and I shouldn't have…"

"You got that right." Sam shook her head, wondering if he even understood why she was so mad. "Those girls have never been off of this reservation, Gibbs. They've never moved." Her hands started moving as she spoke, their motions emphasizing her frustration.

"They don't have a _clue_ about what life is like away from here." She looked away for a moment, and Gibbs waited. "I've not had a chance to find them a school where they'll be safe. I don't want them to be picked on, or to be lost in a mass of kids they don't know.

"I need to finish getting the custody papers in order. I still need to sign the papers on the house, and I'm not sure we can move in immediately. The girls don't need that sort of confusion. Especially not with a big culture change and not having any of their friends around. It's not fair."

"I hadn't thought of all of that."

"I know. You're so focused on _keep them safe_ that you're ignoring everything else."

"You could all stay at my house, you know."

"Thanks, but I don't think that's a good idea." She bit her lip. "I think that for right now, we should put distance between us. I don't think either of us is really ready to move on yet, and…"

"Sam…"

"I'm not bending on this, Jethro." She wiped more tears from her cheeks. "I have feelings for you. But I'm not sure we're a good idea."

"How can I change your mind?"

"Only time can, Gibbs. I want to have you somewhere in my life. I need you. I do. But I'm not sure…"

"You're not sure where."

"No, I'm not." They sat in silence, lost in thought for nearly an hour.

"Are you going to stay at my place until you can move into your house?"

"If it's ok with you, or I can rent a hotel room or something."

"No, staying with me is fine."

"Thanks." More silence followed.

"Sam?"  
>"Yeah?"<p>

"I don't want you to yell, but I'm wanting to make sure. How many tickets do we need on Saturday?"

"I need three. One for me, and two for Allie and Alex."

"Ok. I'll talk to Paul about it."

"Thanks."

The sun was low in the sky before they finally made their way back to the house. The silence between them was palpable, and the children glanced nervously between one another. Joseph took his aunt aside at one point, and Gibbs felt another stab of guilt as he saw the young man wrap her in his arms, offering her comfort from the hurt he'd caused.

Gibbs walked outside, silently berating himself. He wanted so badly to tell her that he was wrong, and that he still loved her. His gut was torn, and it was a new feeling. He wanted to let Sam know he still loved her, but now wasn't the time. Not after he'd just destroyed her trust in him. At the same time, his gut was screaming that leaving the girls was dangerous.

He sighed as he leaned against the only tree on the block. Heavy silence surrounded him. Usually he didn't mind quiet, but this was different. This was the oppressive heaviness he'd carried for years after Shannon and Kelly's passing.

Running his hands down his face, he gathered his thoughts before speaking quietly into the night air.

"Well, Ellis, I screwed the pooch on this one. Any suggestions?"


	84. Chapter 84

Disclaimer : Don't own it!

Note: Thanks to my fabulous beta, Headbanger Rockstar. I love you! Ptbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note : Thanks to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed! I tried to respond to all of the signed autographs, but of course, there are those few that aren't signed, and I appreciate them all!

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"Girl, you should have seen this guy!" Haley shouted from the bathroom as she started up the shower. Her roommate and fellow hooker stood in the door, chewing her gum loudly as she listened to Haley's tale.

"You were gone for so long! I was worried! You didn't even answer your phone!"  
>"He wouldn't let me have it. Like, seriously, he took it away and kept the battery in his pocket."<p>

"Duh! You totally should have taken it when he was sleeping, Hal."

"I couldn't! He even had sex with his pants on!"

"No freaking way."

"Way. I thought he was kidding, but the first time he fucked me, he stayed dressed. It was so weird."

"Did he have any excuse?"

"No, but he kept calling me Veronica and kept talking to me in Spanish."

"That's freaky."

"No kidding." Haley began scrubbing herself, trying to get rid of the disgust she felt creeping along her flesh. "The weirdest part? He wants me to take this letter to the police. I swear, it's like he's some sicko from a horror movie. He's twisted. And I don't know if I should take the damn thing or not."

"I'd take it. Who knows? Maybe he is a sicko." Geri stood up, her eyes wide. "Maybe you just spent three days with a serial killer! You know, that guy on the news? The one they're asking for information on?"

Haley's head popped from behind the curtain.

"What are you talking about?"  
>"Oh, my god! Ok, so while you were off playing house with Freak-Boy, the FBI started this nationwide man-hunt for this serial killer." Geri's eyes narrowed. "Maybe, just maybe, you're the one who'll help catch him." She jumped up to sit on the sink counter, tapping her heels on the doors beneath her. "Do you think you'll get a movie deal? You could get out of this life!"<p>

"What would I do, Ger?" Seriously! I'm no good at school, I couldn't get a job before, and I'm sure I can't get one now. I mean, really. Who's gonna give a hooker a job?"

"I don't know." Geri slumped. "Maybe you could move?"  
>"And do what? Where would I go? Back home? Oh, I can see that one." Haley scoffed. "My Daddy'd welcome me back with open arms… until he was certain of what I've been doing, and once he knew, I'd be dead."<p>

"No, really! You could go somewhere… like New York! Like in Pretty Woman."

"Oh, sure, Ger. The man of my dreams is gonna be my next trick." Both girls dissolved into laughter.

###################

Carol sat before her new lawyer, her fingers tapping impatiently against one another. It had taken her six months to get this new clown after having lost her court case, and the young woman was moving at a snail's pace. _Honestly._ Carol blew out a frustrated breath. _You wouldn't think it was this hard to get a judge to agree to send me to a mental hospital._

"Miss Jordan, your attitude is not going to win you any favors if you insist on behaving like this when the judge arrives."

Carol rolled her eyes. "Are you kidding me? I've waited over a year, you get that? A _YEAR_ to get out of here."

"You won't be getting your freedom, Miss Jordan. _IF_ you leave here, it will be to the care of a mental institution. Once you're there, you could be there indefinitely. With this attitude…"

"With this attitude, they'll see me as someone who's ready to face the challenges of getting my life back."

Andrea Wilson rolled her eyes. _Some people_…. Her thought stopped there, as she knew it didn't need finishing. Andrea hoped the judge would see through whatever act Carol put on today. As the woman's defense lawyer, she couldn't exactly call her on the carpet, but had seen enough to know this lady played games.

Carol Jordan seemed to believe that everyone who worked in Legal Aid needed to have 20 plus years of experience, and completely ignored the fact that most of the lawyers who donated their time were just starting out. No one else had been willing to touch the woman's file, so when Andrea's boss had handed her the by now bulging folder filled with requests for appeals and retrials, the newly graduated woman rolled her eyes and headed for her car amid clapping and cheering.

"Have fun with the Crazy Lady!" More than one of her co-workers called out.

"Be nice! Or next time, I'll send you!" Silenced the small office, and Andrea shook her head as she got into her car.

"And today is only Monday…" With a sigh, Andrea drove toward the medium-security prison where Carol Jordan was housed. After only an hour of talking with Jordan, Andrea wished it was Friday. Friday afternoon, to be exact. With the clock poised only 30 seconds from 5.

########################################

Tony and Abby sat cuddled on the couch, "The Blob" playing loudly on the TV. The pair laughed and pointed to photography mistakes and the horribly acted screams of the victims and witnesses. Tony had just surprised Abby by grabbing her during one of the few "scary" scenes of the movie, making her jump, when his phone rang.

"I thought you're off rotation this weekend."

"The team is, I'm not." Tony grumbled. "Gibbs doesn't get back until tomorrow. Somebody's got to watch the place over our days off." Abby sighed as she flipped off the television while Tony dug his phone out of his pocket. He gave his girlfriend a cheeky grin.

"Hey, Boss! Miss us already?"

"Funny, DiNozzo. Tell me when to laugh."

"Oh, ok so you're not in a good mood."

"Not really. I screwed the pooch with Sam. Followed my gut, and it was the wrong move. Well, not really, but it started an argument."

"Not cool, Gibbs." Tony stood up and motioned for Abby to stay where she was as he headed to another room. "Details. What did you do?"

"I told her it was a bad idea to leave the older two girls in school here while she got a place ready for them and looked for a school here. Don't like leaving them, not even with their grandparents. Too risky."

"Yeah? She got mad?"  
>"Sure did. Told me to remember it's not my decision, and to just shut up."<p>

"Well, I can see both sides, cuz it's not good to have them here with no school or anything, but dang, leaving them there?"

"Yeah. With John Quincy and Doris."

"Well, they're good. We know that."

"Yeah. It's everyone else I'm worried about."

"Want my advice?"  
>"Sure." Gibbs sighed, and Tony could just imagine him rolling his eyes.<p>

"She's a keeper, Boss. You screw this up, you may as well remain a miserable unmarried man forever. You aren't gonna find a better one than her. So Suck it up, be a man, do what you need to, and later on, when your gut is proven right, be there for her, and try not to say 'I told you so'."

"Well, thanks, DiNozzo. Maybe if I'd had advice like that, I wouldn't have been hit over the head with a nine iron."

"She hit you? This is twice? Boss, you gotta buy a lottery ticket. That's like lightening striking twice."

"Can it, Tony!"

"Shutting up, Boss!"

"Good." Gibbs huffed for a moment, licking the wounds Tony had so graciously reopened. "Need ya to do something for me."

"Sure, Boss, anything."

"Got a list of lumber I need for you to go buy and have down in my basement when I get home."

"That bad, huh?"  
>"Not for a boat." Tony grinned at the impatience he heard coming from his friend. "The two littlest ones are coming home with Sam and I, and they need beds. Theirs aren't worth shit. Wanna make 'em nice ones that'll last."<p>

Tony grinned and fist-pumped as he raced for a pen and notebook. He motioned Abby over and scribbled her a quick note as he took down the list Gibbs rattled off to him.

"Anything else?"  
>"Yeah. Send Abby home before you two get into trouble."<p>

"How'd you know she's here?"  
>"It's Saturday night, DiNozzo, no case. Where else she gonna be?" Gibbs clicked his phone shut.<p>

"Sam's bringing the little ones?"

"Yep." Tony scooted his chair back as Abby sat on one of his legs. "They're gonna stay at Gibbs' house until she finds their new home."

"You know what this means?" Abby's eyes took on a mischievous gleam.

"Do I want to know?"

"Of course you do!" He waited. "Gibblets! Even if they're not really his, they're gonna turn out to be Gibblets!"

"Don't say that too soon, Abbs." Tony's face fell a bit. "He stepped in it with Sam by making decisions he shouldn't have, and they fought."

"He better be making it right, Tony. She's like, like…"

"I know." Tony nodded. "I told him the same thing." He winked before pecking her nose with a little kiss. "Only I was more articulate." He laughed as she head-slapped him.

##########################################

Gibbs had already spoken with John Quincy regarding he and Sam's argument, and the older man simply smiled and told him to not get too worried.

"My daughter-in-law is much like the prairie she lived on for so long." He looked off to where Sam was loading the first of the girls' things into the half-ton pickup that Joseph insisted on driving cross country.

"I just feel in my gut that it's dangerous to leave the girls." Gibbs looked down at his hands as he "inspected" his nails. "It's not that I don't trust you and your wife, but…"

"Your spirit tells you something is going to happen, and you want to protect everyone."

"Yes." The men stood side by side, simply watching the business before them. "And I went about it all wrong."

"You did, I'll not argue with that." John Quincy smiled then. "However, you cannot protect everyone from everything. Yes, something may happen. Sam may wish she listened to you. You may wish you said what you did differently. But it won't change the future or the past.

"Whatever happens, will be meant to happen. Even if you took the older girls with you, it would happen. Perhaps differently, but it would happen."

"Do you really believe that? That we can't change things?"

"Sometimes, we can change them. Sometimes we can't." John Quincy put his hand on Gibbs' shoulder. "I have a spirit, too, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. This spirit tells me that you're good for Sam. It also tells me that hard times are still coming, and it doesn't matter where. One of the girls will have troubles, and there is nothing any of us can do to protect her."

"That doesn't really make me feel any better."

"Doesn't make my heart happy, either." The older man sighed. "But I've learned that to fight the spirits is to fight the wind. It's pointless."

"So what should I do?"

"Help her pack, get the little ones back to your home, and be her friend."

"She hates me right now."

"No, she doesn't." He let out a soft chuckle. "She's just going to be mad for a while. Just like the prairie, change comes slowly for her. But when it comes, it's irreversible, and she'll be prepared and happy. Right now, she's scared and unsure."

"Sam? Scared?" Gibbs chuckled. "I've never seen a day when she's not been in charge. Well, maybe once or twice."

"You don't know her like I do." Walking Tall shrugged. "She's scared. And she will be until she feels like her world is back to normal."

"How do I help her find that?"  
>"Just pay attention. She'll show you."<p>

Jethro watched the older man walk away, suddenly realizing what it must feel like to talk to him sometimes. He laughed at himself, understanding that while answers had been cryptic, he'd gotten the information he'd needed.

####################################

Lunch was over, and Sam was busy packing two travel bags for her nieces when Gibbs came into the room.  
>"Can I help?"<p>

"I guess." She stared at him for a moment. "Thought you didn't approve. If you're going to pick up that bone again, don't."

"Nope. Wasn't going to pick it up." Gibbs took the diaper bag and started filling it with pull-ups and wipes. He thought back on how Kelly had been potty trained by now, but then again, her mom hadn't been dying nearly her entire life, either.

"Put this outfit in, would you?" Sam held out a purple jumper with white leotards and a polka dotted shirt.

"Sure." He thought of asking if she'd rather take pants for Alex on the trip, but decided he'd not put his foot in his mouth again. Sam wondered why he'd not spoken up. She'd seen the look on his face as he folded the tiny dress, and had expected an argument.

Perhaps he understood, after all. Perhaps she was wrong. A million thoughts whizzed by in her mind, but she and Mary had agreed on a plan, and that was what she was going to stick to. Just because her sister-in-law was gone didn't mean that she needed to overrun all of her wishes.

Sam was torn between feeling badly for their argument and being upset with him for starting to make decrees. He hadn't been there when they'd discussed with Mary about the older girls having the chance to say good-bye to their friends, or how hard it was going to be for the elder Walking Tall's to say good-bye to their grandchildren who had always lived so close.

The girls had been through enough that it was important to let them have this time, and nothing was going to change Sam's mind. They needed stability, and she couldn't give them that until she had a home for them and a school they'd be comfortable in. The smaller ones weren't in school yet, and didn't have many friends, so leaving wasn't so rough on them, and while they'd miss their grandparents, the couple was getting too old to care for ones so young.

Leaving them was really the only option Sam could see, even after Gibbs' outburst. Had she thought of a better way, she would have talked to John Quincy and Doris about it, but there just wasn't. The stubborn part of her was glad, because it meant that she and Mary had planned well, and they didn't need to depend on anyone to make decisions for them.

Even as she chastised herself for that thought, she remembered Gibbs' "famous" gut, and hoped for anything that he was wrong this time.


	85. Chapter 85

Disclaimer : Don't own them. *sigh* It's unfair, I know.

Note: Thanks to my amazing beta, Headbanger Rockstar, and her fabulous work on this chapter! Believe me, there was a lot to fix. Lol Nothing like writing in the middle of the night because you can't sleep and you're all hyped up on pain pills. *giggles*

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"Authorities have now offered a reward for information leading to the capture of the man now known as the Video Killer. He has been potentially tied to six other murders in four states. The unfortunate victims were all buried face down in shallow graves. Their identities had been taken, yet their wallets remained. It is believed that he took a "souvenir" from each victim to remember the kill."

A man sat eating his take out, chuckling at the news cast. They had no information on him beyond what was on that video, and there had been precious little. He was mildly surprised that six of his other murders were already found, but that wasn't a big problem. That just told him he was on the move.

Ah. On the move. He'd be doing that in the morning. He'd finally figured out where he wanted to head to next, and was just wanting a good night's sleep before he headed into fresh territory. If only those idiots knew how many lives he'd already claimed…He laughed, nearly choking on his burrito.

He'd now covered thirty out of fifty states, which meant that sixty bodies lay behind him. South Dakota, Nebraska, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming, Idaho, Utah, Arizona, Nevada, and then up north through California, into Oregon, and finally into the great state of Washington.

Washington was beautiful. He really wished he could stay, but he needed to get across the tip of Idaho just in case someone found that worthless drunk. He'd been fun to chase down, but he sure had made a mess. Lesson learned. Never shoot a drunk in the gut.

Once he made the longest, dullest stretch of his journey across the U.S., it was easy going. The states were smaller, the cities closer together, and after Veronica, he'd perfected his way of killing and disposing of bodies. Some, like hers, would never be found.

Howard sat back against the motel bed's headboard. In his hand was a list of names of victims, along with descriptions of how they died and where they were buried. An evil smile crossed his features as he began to read the sordid list once more. He recalled how some of them had died, and he felt himself harden.

This sexual arousal over his killings was something new. He'd not experienced it before Veronica, but it was firmly in place now. His eyes drifted to the first name on his list as his hand drifted to the front of his boxers, unbuttoning the single button that kept him bound.

He sighed in pleasure as he began to recall that ride. His first kill. The first time he tasted the fear of another human…

_Vernon Yellow Hand prattled on like a drunken tattle-tale, telling Howard about how horrible his ex-wife was, and how ungrateful his children were. He bragged about signing over parental rights, and angered his "host" with his hopes of the future, one of which was finding a new woman…a woman who would understand what a man like him needed._

"_What does a man like you need?"_

"_Space. I need space, and I need to be able to have a few on the side, know what I mean?"_

"_Sure." Howard nodded, his hands tightening on the wheel. He felt like he was talking to his father all over again. The man was insufferable. _

"_And I need to not be hounded for every cent that comes into the house, you know? If I make money, it's mine. If there's leftovers, I'll pay bills. But I gotta take care of my, you know."_

_Howard listened in disbelief as this jerk talked about spending his kids school clothes money on alcohol and then hitting his wife for fussing about it. Vernon was worse than his father. His father ran around on his mother, but she'd always had plenty of money to pay bills and do things herself. Howard had never been denied anything, let alone basic needs so his father could get drunk. _

_He knew then, at that moment, that he'd made his decision to try to kill off the banes of society was the right thing to do. Vernon had thought Howard was teasing at first when he motioned with his gun. _

"_Well, run. I can't hunt ya if you're standing still, you stupid Injun."_

"_Hey now, I ain't stupid, and when you said you wanted to do a little hunting, I don't think you really meant me."_

"_Why not? Nobody'll miss you. You've not held a job in years, so you're pretty worthless. Not even your children like ya. So, run."_

"_No." Vernon took a step to the car, only to have Howard shoot at his feet._

"_Run." Howard's voice was icy, and his eyes showed pure hatred. "Run, or I'll shoot you where you stand." With a scream of terror, Vernon ran as fast as he could._

####################################

Sam sat across from Pastor Dave as she read over decisions she had Mary had made. Dave had a similar list, as did Gibbs. He'd been surprised when she first asked him to join them at the table, but he supposed it made sense. After all, he was now part of this little family, marriage to Sam or not.

"She wanted the girls to be raised Christian, and I don't know how to do that." She fumbled for words for a moment. "I mean, I went to a missionary school for two years, just like Mary, but I learned about as much as she did. Gluttony was a sin, so we went hungry, but they were fat. Long hair was a sin, but every picture of Jesus showed him with long hair.

"We learned that to be a Christian was to lie." Dave held up his hand, and Sam cut him short. "And until I met you, that's what I believed. I'm still not excited about going to church every week, but if you can help me find a pastor like you, I'll be happy to keep them in church."

"Thank you, Sam." Pastor Dave's smile was one of relief, and his eyes shown with wetness. He reached out across the table and took her hand for a second. "That is such a wonderful thing to hear, and I know that we can find a good church home for you." He cleared his throat and pulled a list from his pack.

"I took the liberty of calling a few churches in the DC area, where I assume you'll be living?" He looked from one to the other, both nodding. "Good. I was hoping you'd say that." He grinned. "Makes me look prepared and like I know what I'm doing." Gibbs chuckled along, while Sam was busy looking.

"These aren't all the same religion." She looked up confused.

"Well, technically, they are." Dave cleared his throat. "People get caught up in silly things like dogma and doctrine and who said what first. What we really need to remember is that Jesus is God's son, He died for our sins, He rose again, and now is in heaven praying for us."

"The other stuff doesn't matter?"

"It's important, don't get me wrong, but we shouldn't limit ourselves to only what we know or believe ourselves. I have several Catholic friends, who although we believe differently on some things, we can agree and study together about many other areas. The same as Presbyterians, Lutheran, etc. If a church believes and teaches the sure foundation, then I believe they're a great place for you to start."

"You've done a lot of work." Gibbs looked at Dave before scooting closer to Sam to read from the side. She slid the paper, so they were both reading at a slight angle. "What's with the stars and the separate numbers with them?"

"Those are churches with groups called Mothers of Preschoolers." He shrugged. "MoPS. It's really good from what I hear. A lot of support, and you'll probably be wanting and needing that in the months to come."

"I'm really not comfortable…"

"Don't have to use the resource, Sam, it's just there." Dave smiled. "It may be too much all at once. Use what you can, leave the rest."

"I can do that." Sam tucked the paper into her folder. "Now, as to the private school thing for Amy. Do you really think that's wise? Mary left the decision to me, and I'm not sure that she'd do a good job with a bunch of rich kids making fun of her."

"She'll have money, Sam."

"Sure, she will. But she'll still just be a poor kid from the reservation. Mom doesn't know how to do hair or makeup, and neither do I. I can't show her all of the things the girls her age will know."

Sam stood and paced the kitchen. Gibbs hadn't thought of his city in quite this way before, but he was surprised to realize that she was right. He did live in a place where children lost childhood.

"The little girls, as in they're still in training bras and haven't even started cycling are wearing makeup. I've seen moms buy toy kits for their toddlers to learn how to put it on. I don't even know how to paint nails. How am I going to teach her to fit in?"

##########################################

Haley strutted into the police station and handed over the letter, fully expecting to be arrested. She'd been picked up a dozen times before, and in a small city like this, that meant that most of the desk clerks had seen her in booking. Hazel took the letter, got Haley to sign that she'd delivered, it and told the young girl to have a good day.

"I'm not in trouble?"

"Ya been making any today?"

"No."

"Come in to turn yourself in?"

"Nope."

"Good then get out of here. And don't let me see you again for a few months! Better yet, get a job and come back to show me your paystub."

Haley laughed all the way out the door. If only it worked like that. She'd applied for every position she was qualified for, and a few she wasn't. Every time, it was the same answer. They all knew her. Heck, even a couple of her potential bosses had been clients, and they couldn't risk having someone like her around their honest, upstanding employees.

Maybe she did need to move. But to do that, she'd need a lucky break, a winning lottery ticket, or some big financial whirlwind.

#################################################

Tony and Abby stood at the checkout in the nearby lumber yard. The cashier grinned at them.

"I've seen you in here before with Gibbs, just not together and not without him. He get you two hooked on boats, too?"

"Oh, no." Tony rolled his eyes and laughed. "No way. We're just picking some stuff up for the great Gibbs. We toucheth not the tools."

Melody laughed as she rang up the purchases, and told them to tell Gibbs she's said hi. They paid, agreed, and left, their sides hurting from the teasing and joking that went on between the three of them. It was a small wonder he always wanted her line.

Tim and Ziva were waiting for them at Gibbs' home, and helped to carry all of the wood downstairs. Their boss had mysteriously made the shell of his most recent boat disappear so he could begin making Christmas toys. Abby gushed about the good timing, and how it was a sign as the others searched for his magical door. To their frustration, there didn't seem to be one.

"I wonder if he has shrink-o dust. You know, like in that 1950's classic, where the woman spills a powder on herself and then shrinks."

"That's not how she shrunk, McGeek, but you get kudos for trying! I'm leaning toward pixie dust." Tony clapped his hands together. "Or a cabinet like in "Indian in the Cupboard"! He sticks the boat in there, and PRESTO! It's tiny!"

"One problem, my silly sweetheart." Abby wrapped her arms around him, kissing his nose.

"Yes, my enchanting mistress?"

"How does he get it in the cabinet?" Tony slumped and laid his head on her shoulder.

"Foiled again." He muttered, all the while grinning as Abby stroked his hair and Ziva patted his back. Tim just rolled his eyes.

"What's all this wood for, anyway?" Tim walked over to some of the longer pieces of oak. "It's not for a boat. He uses a different grade for boats."

"Oh, look who's learning! Way to go, McSuckup!" Tony patted his friend on the back, and took in a deep breath to explain.

"Our Great Gibbs, our Silver Haired Fox, our Beloved Leader, is making beds." Abby bounced on her toes, excitement showing in her eyes as Tony playfully blew out his breath. "Sam's nieces are coming to live with her, and they need beds. They're staying here until Sam gets her house all set up, which I hope is like, never, cuz she and Gibbs are so good together, and like, he'll never want to move, and the girls are destined to be Gibblets, I just know it…"

"Abby, Abby!" Ziva held her hands up in a T shape. "Why were we not told her nieces were coming."

"Oh, Gibbs didn't know it until he got there three days ago. He's been really busy, with the funeral, and with being a jerk, and…"

"He didn't call us until last night, and then it was only to give us this list. I think they're coming home tonight or tomorrow."

"Do they want us here to help carry things in?"

"I don't know, Ziva. He said he'd call later. I'll call you guys as soon as I know anything."

"Thanks, Tony." With that, McGee and Ziva headed up the stairs.

The young couple watched as their friends left. Abby headed over to make sure the wood was stacked "just so" as Tony pulled out his cell phone.

"Hey, Boss, we got it all here for you." There was a loud roar of noise behind Gibbs, and the man fairly had to shout as he walked out of the house.

"Sorry, kids are playing some sort of game. They've got one another by the backs of their hands and are swinging their hand pile back and forth shouting something like "hosisipa" or whatever. Seems the object is to not pull away or let go. Whoever loses gets tickled by the rest."

"That's cool, Boss."

"Yeah. Now, what were you calling about?"  
>"We got everything on your list, and it's all here in your basement."<p>

"Thanks. Means a lot."

"You're welcome." Tony paused a moment, hoping Gibbs wouldn't hang up yet. "How are you and Sam doing?"  
>"Well, we're talking and being civil. That's a step, at least."<p>

"Yeah, it is. How you gonna win her back?"

"Not sure. But I'll think of something." Gibbs cleared his throat. "Tell Abbs I said "hi", and I'll be home tomorrow."

"Sounds good. Night, Boss."

A click was Gibbs' reply.


	86. Chapter 86

Disclaimer : Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to my fabulous beta, Headbanger Rockstar. Love you!

Note: I feel pretty good this week, and am able to write! Thanks for all of your prayers and support! They're working!

###############################################

Gibbs checked the air in the small rented truck that would carry the girls few possessions to Washington DC. Joseph grinned as he watched his uncle give the truck his ok. Never mind that it had been serviced before they'd rented it.

He wasn't sure what had gone on between them, but he sure hoped An' Sam would get her head out of her butt soon. This guy was too good to let go of just because he got under her skin once in a while. If he remembered correctly, Uncle Ellis had done that plenty of times, too.

His aunt had been up early that morning, making sure everything was packed and ready. She'd gotten the truck packed so tightly, that he was sure they'd not be able to get another thing in, never mind that she'd used only half of the available space. Then, to his surprise, all of the stuff he'd left at home had been loaded in, and next had come some of Amy and Acheflow's things. He knew the older girls would come later, and had assumed that so would all of their possessions.

He watched as the truck reached its brim finally, and Gibbs stepped forward to close it and make sure it was latched properly as Sam headed back inside to gather their carry-on luggage for their flight. Joseph was looking forward to seeing everyone back in DC, and was glad he'd get to fly home, as he'd have more time to visit.

"Didn't think there'd be room for my crap." Joseph kicked at a small rock at his feet, watching as it spun off into the grass.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes and stared at the younger man for a moment. Joseph never lifted his eyes, and for a moment, Gibbs got a look at the child Sam often called Joey in quiet moment. He seemed younger in this moment than he did on the day of his mother's death, and Gibbs understood. He was afraid. Not of death, but of being abandoned yet again.

"Always got room for ya, kiddo." Gibbs reached over and tousled his hair before pulling him in for a hug. "Your aunt loves you, and that's not changing just because she's taking your sisters in."

"Thanks, Uncle Gibbs." Joseph wiped a lone tear from his cheek. "Didn't realize I was so worried about it."

"I can understand it, but I don't think you'll ever be left again. That I can promise."

"Nobody can promise anything, really."

"Whether it's me or your aunt, one of us will be here. And if we're not, for whatever reason, we'll make sure you and your sisters will be provided for." Gibbs chucked him under his chin. "Besides, there's always the team. They're the closest things I've got to kids, and they'll step in."

The smile Gibbs received in return was more than enough thanks for stepping out of his comfort box.

########################################

Tony and Abby worked to clear out the spare bedroom upstairs in Gibbs' house. They each rolled their eyes at the thought of Gibbs' "spare room" being the one he'd shared with Shannon, but the fact that he was willing to let Sam's nieces sleep in there until they moved to their new home spoke volumes for his respect for their friend.

For a while, they had worked in silence, simply moving boxes from this room to that, trotting up and down the basement stairs, stashing some in the garage, etc., when Abby finally bored of the silence. Tony grinned as his girlfriend cranked up the music. "Soda Fountain Favorites" pumped energy through the house as they sang along, grooving to the music of the Beach Boys, The Everly Brothers, Elvis and their contemporaries as they worked with more enthusiasm at the end than they'd felt in the beginning.

By the time they reached the last few boxes, they'd worked themselves until they were dripping with sweat. The mattress was turned upside down on the bed, and Tony flipped it over so they could lay comfortably on the plush top.

"Comfy bed." Abby waggled her eye brows.

"Yeah." Tony grimaced. "Too bad I feel like I'm in my dad's bed." The two stared at one another for a moment before dissolving into fits of laughter. They'd lost track of how many times they'd annoyed their boss into sending them home, comments about "hyper active, sugar addicted…preschoolers" ringing in their ears.

The best part was when he'd point to Sam in near distress and exclaim, "And you're encouraging them!"

The pair finally settled, and Tony sat up first.

"Come on, Babe. We gotta finish this."

"It feels wrong, somehow." Abby slumped. "This room has been… I don't know."  
>"I know." Tony took her hand. "It's been where he could always find Shannon." A tear rolled down her face as she nodded. That was exactly what it was. This was his non-basement sanctuary. The place he came to hide when the exes got to be too much.<p>

"Let's get it done, then, Tony. I want to go out."

"Sure. Where?"  
>"Um." Abby grinned, twirling as if she were wearing a skirt. "We're listening to this stuff. Why not go to Swanky Franks?" Tony rolled his eyes.<p>

"What is it with you, poodle skirts, white t-shirts, and rolled up black jeans?" Abby pulled him close.

"You look so sexy." There was a beat before he quickly turned to pick up another box.

"Swanky Frank's it is!"

The next box he picked up fell apart, the tape holding it sealed tore the cardboard and its contents fell to the floor. Abby gasped and stepped around him, carefully picking up the preserved wedding dress the destroyed box had held.

"It's Shannon's." Her voice held a tone of awe.

"What should we do? He's gonna kill me for sure."

"No, it's still wrapped in the plastic from the drycleaners. We need to get a good storage box for it. That's all. A good plastic one that'll keep it from being harmed anywhere."

"Good idea." Tony nodded, not even aware that his head moved as his eyes remained fixed on the dress. It was like he was looking at some sacred object, and he guessed that in this house, he was. "Maybe we should check the last couple of boxes to make sure there's nothing like this in them. They're the most carefully packed.

"Sure. Can you take this box out? Just toss it down the stairs for now, so it's not in the way."

Tony picked up the torn box and headed out, jogging quickly, making sure his task wouldn't keep him from exploring the potential finds in the room. It wasn't that he wanted to pry, but he suddenly had a glimpse of his boss and friend that he'd never expected to get. He didn't want to miss a moment. It was almost as if he was getting to see a bit of his own past. The past of a father who had adopted him, and yet never shared his former life.

Abby sat with something in her lap, stroking it gently.

"What ya got?" She turned teary eyes to him.

"It's Kelly's baby book." Tony sat by her, and together they went through the book, page by page.

They saw pictures of Jethro holding her for the first time, and of her first steps. In Shannon's neat script were records of the first foods she ate, how much she loved sweet potatoes, and a cute story of the first time she was given spaghetti.

Page after page of Kelly's life unfolded before their eyes. They saw a little bundle of energy who had her Daddy wrapped around her little finger. They saw a loving child who offered to give away toys to needy children, and who thought of the homeless, as she once offered a man her half-eaten hot dog because he looked hungry.

Abby turned another page and tears filled her eyes. This page was written in Gibbs' handwriting, and it was shaky, yet understandable.

_My Dearest Kelly,_

_On the day you were born, and I received the call that you were here, I never dreamed that this day would come. And then I got to meet you, and I held you in my arms close to my chest. At that moment, I knew what love really was. I knew what it meant to want to give everything to someone. _

_I thought I understood that with your mother, and believe me, I love her so much that I'm not sure how to go on without her. But there was something different about you. You were a part of me. A part of your mother. And yet you were an entire person, all to yourself. _

_I couldn't wait to see what you'd grow up to be. Would you look like me? You had my dad's ears, or you did. You soon seemed to have your mothers' ears, which I was thankful for. You did get my eyes and nose. Everything else, though, was your mom. Your attitude, you laugh, your tears, and even your snore. You were such a treasure. Such a blessing to our lives._

_Nothing gave me more happiness than coming home to your beautiful smile. I'll never forget the day you lost your first tooth and I came home to you sobbing as you cradled it in your tiny hand. I asked you what was wrong, and you showed me that little tooth and the spot in your mouth where it had been. We went upstairs and I explained to you about the tooth fairy. _

_You told me that Mommy had told you all about her, but you didn't believe her. However, I said it was true, so it must be. It made your mom upset that you doubted her, but I was bursting with pride that I still knew it all. I knew the day you would learn that I didn't have all the answers was coming soon, and yet I could still enjoy some of those days. _

_With all of the flips and twirls you did in the back yard, Mommy and I thought about getting you into gymnastics. That was supposed to be your birthday present. Would that have been the start of a hobby for you, or would you take it farther?_

_We watched the Olympics, and you were enthralled with the gymnasts. You never stopped mimicking to the best of your ability every move you could remember. Would we have one day sat in the stands as you tried for a gold medal? I would have been the proudest father there. _

_But those dreams came to an end while I was away. I lost you and your mother. Some drug dealer killed you. And I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't here to protect you. I'm sorry I wasn't a better father to you. I'm sorry I wasn't here with you more. I'm just so sorry. I failed you. God gave me two people to love and protect, and I walked away to serve others. In that moment, I failed you. Yes, I did my duty to my country, and I'm proud of that service. But oh, the cost. You are too high of a price to have paid. _

_Daddy will love you forever, Kelly. _

There were a few letters scratched out that they couldn't make out, along with what was obviously a tear-stain. Tony and Abby sat in silence, stunned at the beauty of the letter before them. This wasn't the words of the emotionally stunted and functionally mute man they knew. This was a family man, a man who cared deeply, a man who loved more than they ever could understand.

Minutes passed in silence as they stared at the page. Tony cleared his throat several times. Abby hid her face in his shoulder, making no effort to hide her tears. He finally lifted a hand to wipe away the tears he was afraid would mar the page.

"What should we do?"

"Put it with Shannon's dress." Abby's voice was a quite as Tony's. "Come on. Let's get a box. A nice plastic one that will preserve it well. Not one of the cheap ones, but something pretty."

"I don't even know where to find something like that."

"Come on. I know this great place."

"Of course you do." Tony smiled as he wiped the last of Abby's tears away. She quirked an eyebrow.

"Is that a complaint?"  
>"No, that's a compliment. You always know just what to do or where to find something. And I love you for it."<p>

"Feeling sentimental?"

"No, just realizing that life is short, and I need to tell you how I feel." Abby's breath caught as he sank to his knee beside her.

"Abigail Scuitto, I love you, and I can't imagine my life without you. You make me laugh, and you settle me after a hard day at work." He cleared his throat. "I love coming in to my apartment to find you're already there and are setting the table for dinner, or that you come in long after I've been home and demand that I get dinner ready for you."

Abby blushed. She'd only done that a few times, and she'd not really demanded. She'd simply begged. Fervently.

"Please, Abby. I love you. Will you marry me?"

He stared up at her for what seemed like forever. Her eyes were closed, and her hands had never left his. When she met his gaze, he knew her answer.

"Yes," shown in her eyes long before it left her lips.


	87. Chapter 87

Disclaimer : Don't own it.

Note: Don't own "Yeha-Noha". It's part of a war-chant in the Shoe Game of the Navajo people. I love this song, and while the rest of the time, I'm using Lakota, I just had to use this song. It's not really a lullaby, but it is fun. And I like it. Reason enough. Lakota is slightly easier to translate, and it has no verb conjugations, so I didn't need to stress about getting the tenses wrong. I'm doing my best to stick as close to the languages as I possibly can. My apologies for any mistakes! (I use English most of the time now, and well… my memory being what it is…)

The song is from the Shoe Game, which explains night and day. In the game, the animals of the night and day were to find a ball hidden inside of a shoe (the Giant hid it). When the night animals found it, it was night. When the day animals found it, it was day. This song is about the Giant's lament over the owl cheating. So don't expect some emotional meaning. There isn't one. I found a copy of it, along with translations that I could use, which would preserve the _correct_ spelling of the words. So I put in in, instead of leaving you to wonder. My thanks to "daybreakwarrior" for making it doable!

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar, my fabulous beta!

Extra note, and then I'll shut up! I JUST MADE FRY BREAD WITH GARBANZO BEANS! It's on my blog, so anyone who's like me and can't have grains, please go check it out!

#####################################

"Toksa ahke. Chantochignake." "_Good bye. I love you."_

"_Chantochignake." _Allie clung to her grandma, her little arms wrapped around her tightly. "Miye econ sni ta bla." _"I don't want to go."_

"Ki inipi ica. Nitawa Tunwin Sam ti tehanl etanhan lel." _You need to. Your Aunt Sam lives far from here._

"Eyas miye toha kte ni ni wa inipe ya ake ka.Miye yanka kte tehanl." _But I will never see you again._ _I'll be so far away._

"E he sni ca tehanl. Tunwin Sam kte yuha zainipinika hehantukte kupepi ataye ake." _It isn't so far. Aunt Sam will keep you safe and well until we meet again._

"Takuwe okihi inipi sni gli kici unkiye pi?" _Why can't you come with us?_

"Tuwa kte icu awanyanka on Tunkasila?" _Who will take care of Grandpa?_

"Takuwe okihi iye gli ko?" _Why can't he come, too?_

"Tunkasila he na tanni wasicun. Iyokipi econ sni cin ta iyaye ti yata." _Grandpa is an old man. He doesn't want to leave home._

"Nahan miye he na tanni wasicun ko. Miye econ sni cin ta iyaye ti yata tuktuma ki eyas." _ Then I am an old man, too. I don't want to leave home, either._

"Inipi yuha wanci teca ti yata hel iyoki inipi. Tunwin Sam na Leksi Gibbs kte awanyanka on inipi na nitawa mitankala na sunkaku. Nitawa wiconi he kici epi wana." _You have a new home waiting for you. Aunt Sam and Uncle Gibbs will take care of you and your sisters and brother. Your life with them now._

Doris took Allie's tiny tear-streaked face in her hands. The two locked eyes as the older woman wiped the tears from her granddaughter's cheeks. Allie sniffled and nodded sorrowfully.

"Ohan omawastewici. Nitawa Ina kte yainipiyaetanhanka mahpiyatu." _Be a good girl. Mommy will watch you from heaven._

"Econ inipi okiyaka ta wa unkiye ya pi ka?" _Do you promise to see us again?_

"Ha. Miye egna nitawa Unci. Miye kte oihanke wanil yanka lel kici inipi." _Yes. I'm your Grandma. I'll always be right here for you._

Allie nodded, as if satisfied with the answer and hopped down from her grandmothers lap. She trotted purposefully to Gibbs and tugged on his hand. He squatted down, looking up to Doris to translate.

"He inipi wicake ble ta tanka unkitawa leksi?" _Are you really going to be our uncle?_

"Yes, if you want me to be."

"Hau, inipi cin miye."

"Ha." She cuddled into his chest, seeming to climb him in desperation. "Iyokipi sni econ wahtela sni miye tohan miye gli ti yata kici inipi. Watohanl miye he sni owanjila, na miye ektunja inila. Kte inipe naha inipic? Ate o miye. Miye sni cin inipi ta. Miye wate lake inipi. Inipi he waste. Tota inipi ni ni kasaksak ka miye, nai panpan miye. Iyokipi sni cin tohan ektunja omawaste. " _Yes. Please don't hate me after we live with you. Sometimes I'm not quiet, and I forget to be still. Will you still be nice? Daddy hit me. I don't want you to. I love you. You're nice. You've never spanked me, or yelled at me. Please don't when I forget to be good._

Gibbs listened to Doris carefully as she translated for her now sobbing granddaughter. Allie held tight to the man she'd come to adore, hoping she'd not made him mad. Her daddy would have been shouting by now, calling her names, and making fun of her for being a weak little baby.

Her hopes soared as his strong arms tightened around her. She didn't understand the words he spoke into her hair, but she could feel the peace and love he put into them. Another pair of hands rubbed her back, and she lifted her face long enough to meet her aunt's gaze before burying her head back into his comforting chest.

"Leski Gibbs he wanci waste wasicun. Iyokipi kte awanyanka inipi. On oyasin unkiye pi. Iyokipi wate lake inipi. He kte toha kaspapi ni ni." _Uncle Gibbs is a good man. He will take care of you. Of all of us. He loves you. That will never change._

There wasn't much of what she said that he understood, but he knew one important word. _Leski_. He was still their uncle. Sam stared back at him, understanding what he was saying with his expression as the sudden importance of having a family once again rolled over him.

In that moment, he didn't care that he wasn't their father. He didn't care that he and Sam had been arguing only hours before. All he cared about was the precious hurting little child who clung to him. His gratitude to Sam for allowing him to remain a part of her family was overshadowed by another emotion. One he'd not felt in years. And one he planned to savor forever.

John Quincy watched, tears in his elderly eyes. He had nearly dreaded this moment, and now that it was here, he was still wondering what to say to his grandchildren. Yes, he would see them again in a few short weeks, as they had all planned for he and his wife and the two oldest girls to travel to DC to meet Gibbs' "family" and share Thanksgiving, but how could he say good-bye?

Words had been something he'd often struggled with, and now they evaded him entirely. When Allie was calmed enough to reach out to him, she answered his quest for words with a simple request. She wanted him to sing them a lullaby.

And so he sat, his two little ones on his lap. With a voice clear and surprisingly strong for an almost 70 year old man, he sang. Both girls rested their heads on his chest, feeling the gentle rumble of his voice complimenting the words of his chosen tune.

Yé'iitsoh jiní náá léi'  
>Giant says over &amp; over<p>

Chaał azditsih (yaa-héí-naa)  
>Crying as he hits with the indicator stick<p>

Éí ga'  
>That (in particular)<p>

Shaa ninánóh'aah, shitsóóké!  
>You (both) give it back to me, my grandchildren!<p>

Níigo  
>He says<p>

Chaał azditsih (yaa-héí-naa)

When he finished singing, both of the girls were snuggled in close. Alex had her thumb in her mouth as her eyelids drooped. Allie, however was ready for more. She wanted another song. With a smile born of patience and love, John Quincy began another short song.

##########################################

Hours later, after they'd finally gotten into the car and driven away with the girls quietly crying in the back seat with Sam between them, they arrived at the airport. They made it through security without incident, although questions were raised due to the girls tears and their inability to speak English. Thankfully, Sam had custody papers at the ready, and after the initial concern, they had no more problems.

While they waited to board their plane, Alex became increasingly upset. The new noises and sights were too much for the tired toddler, and Gibbs resorted to buying her a pacifier. Sam had tried to wean the little girl from it, but today was too much for her to be without part of her security.

Mary had never had the energy to break her from the habit of sucking on one, and Joseph had found life was easier if he simply let her have it. He was harried enough to not need the extra worry of breaking her from it. And now Sam shot Gibbs an irritated look as her niece calmed, snuggled into her hero's lap.

He earned an eye roll when he opened his carry on and pulled out the tattered baby quilt she'd been seen toting when she was upset. Gibbs simply shrugged as he handed Allie a coloring book and crayons from a nearby vendor. Both girls' settled in, one happily coloring, and one letting loose with an occasional sob.

"Pandering to them already?" Sam shook her head, torn between amusement and frustration that he'd gotten them calmed so quickly when she'd been unable to do so.

"No. Traveled a time or two with Kelly. Some things you don't forget, such as how important something comfortable is." He pressed a kiss to Alex's hair as she sighed, her eyes closing.

Sam quelled her irritation, realizing how lucky she was to have a friend like him. Allie got her attention, and she looked down at her niece, commenting at her beautiful picture. Gibbs closed his eyes, letting his own peace wash over the little one on his lap.

Their flight was called, and Frank helped by carrying carry-ons and stashing them in the overhead compartments. Alex was nearly asleep, and wasn't about to leave her beloved Leski Gibbs' arms. She slept as Allie watched fascinated as the plane went faster and faster, finally leaving the ground.

Sam sat on the aisle, letting the little girl watch out of the window. She smiled as Allie pointed out buildings and farms, oohing and aahing over how small the ground looked from way up high. She began to make up stories about being a bird, and Gibbs cuddled Alex closer to his chest as he listened to words he wished he could understand.

Three hours later, their plane landed. The bump of the wheels touching woke Alex, and she began to whimper, not happy about still sitting. Gibbs had put her back into her seat without waking her, and that was a cause for fussing. She was hungry, and her tiny bottom hurt from sitting for so many hours, even if she was snuggled in closely for most of the trip. Allie was tired enough that her sister crying was enough to get her upset, so her tears joined Alex's.

##############################

"Tony, if you don't hurry up, we're gonna be late!" Abby bounced on the balls of her feet, more than anxious to be on the road.

"We've got plenty of time, Abby." Tony sighed in frustration. "I know you want to see them, but driving me batty isn't going to get them home faster."

"No, but it will get us there on time."

"Abby!" He glared at her. "We'll be fine. We've got enough time, I've already got the van rented, and you need to just chill. Seriously."

"Are you going to be this stubborn for the next 50 years?"

"More. Now stop bothering me and go get in the car."

"Oh! You're ready?"  
>"Yes. I told you. Three minutes. And I meant three minutes. Now go."<p>

Forty-five minutes later, Tony smirked in victory as they arrived at the airport fifteen minutes early. Abby batted her eyes and apologized, earning a kiss as Tony accepted.

"Can I tell Sam?"

"Yes, but not Gibbs."

"Why?"  
>"He'd kill me for not asking him first."<p>

"Why?"  
>"Hello." Tony rolled his eyes. "You might as well be his daughter." Abby's reply was cut short by a call from Gibbs, asking them if they'd arrived, and telling them to be at gate C to pick them up in twenty minutes or so.<p>

Knowing it would take that long to wait in line so they could get a spot at the curb, Tony pulled out of the waiting parking lot and headed to the pick-up area. Both wondered what the girls would be like, having heard them over the phone when talking with Gibbs. Neither had had the opportunity to speak to either, but they had sounded adorable.

Once parked, Abby began to watch for their returning family. She squealed in excitement as Frank came through first, his hands and shoulders laden with bags and suitcases. Next came Sam, who carried two bags, and one that was dragging behind her. The last one through the door was Gibbs, who was earning appreciative looks from women he passed.

On one shoulder slept Allie, who had finally exhausted herself only moments before. On his other shoulder rested Alex, who wasn't asleep, but also wasn't inclined to lift her head. Her dark eyes took in all of the sights around her, and she smiled back at two women who giggled and waved, as if paying attention to the little girl would earn her carrier's attention.

"Hey, Boss! Welcome home, Sam!" Tony and Abby stood by the van, grinning as they watched the goings-on surrounding them. Sam looked wearied, Frank seemed worn, and Gibbs looked as if he was fighting the child-borne sleeping dust that seems to naturally come with snuggling children.

"Thank you so much for coming to get us." Sam smiled as she accepted Abby's enthusiastic one-armed hug.

"You're so welcome." Abby bounded over to Gibbs. "So, these cuties are our new nieces, huh?"

"Yep." He smiled and pecked her on the forehead. "Older one is Allie, younger is Alex."

"Hi." Abby smiled and waved to Alex. "How are you?"

"They don't speak any English."

"Oh." Abby frowned for a moment. "Well, then, how do I say hi and introduce myself?"  
>"Hau."<p>

"And that is?"

"That means hi and yes."

"Look at you, Bossman. Learning already."

"Had to learn some out of self-preservation." He smirked.

"Mitawa caja he means "my name is."

"Wow." She practiced it quietly, and then introduced herself to the toddler. A broad smile broke out on the tot's face, and she rattled on, assuming Abby understood every word. With a few well placed "Oh's?" and nods, Alex was satisfied and went back to resting.

"What did she say, Sam?"

"She said you look funny." Sam laughed. "You have hair like her, and your eyes are even stranger than Uncle Gibbs', but she likes it."

"I'm gonna have to watch what I agree to, huh?"

"With these two, yes." Sam's arms were finally unloaded, so she pulled the younger woman into a hug. "I've missed you!"

"Me, too. I've got so much to tell you." Abby's eyes shone mischievously.

"Do tell."

"Not here." She looked over to Tony, who was kissing Alex's hand, making the girl giggle. "I promised Tony I'd not tell Gibbs yet."

Sam grinned. "I'm gonna have the girls sleep in with me. You can help me get them ready for bed."

"Perfect." The two grinned, and Tony exchanged a look with Gibbs. Back not even an hour, and already the world was in danger.

#####################################

The drive home had been quiet, and the girls were fast asleep as Abby helped Sam carry them up the stairs. Tony and Gibbs headed for the kitchen, obviously in search of the coffee pot.

They whispered as they tucked the girls in, Sam telling Abby about their trip, and Abby telling about cleaning out the room.

"Now, I know I'm not listening to this for nothing." Sam put her hands on her hips. "You have something to tell me?"

"Yes." Abby quietly bounced. "Tony proposed." Sam's eyes grew wide before she threw her arms around her friend.

"Does Gibbs know?"  
>"Not yet. I think Tony's telling him."<p>

"I'm so happy for you!" Sam hugged her again. "You know, if he's not told Gibbs yet, this is going to be one hell of a secret to keep."

They giggled, shushing while laughing more as the girls stirred. With motions and snorts of held-in laughter, they made their way to the hall.

They were nearly to the kitchen, trying to settle themselves so they didn't arouse suspicion when they saw Tony's head snap forward from where he stood by the fridge.

"'Bout damn time, DiNozzo," had them laughing once again as they entered the kitchen.


	88. Chapter 88

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar for being my patient beta and one of my bestest friends. LOVE YOU!

############################################

Gibbs growled and paced the length of his office once more. The last three days had been a Murphy's Law mess, and it was becoming increasingly unbearable. This final development had him wanting to kill someone. Too bad he wasn't involved in interrogations anymore. The poor fool who was the perpetrator of this screwball plot was going to shit if Gibbs got a moment with him.

The MCRT had been tracking a drug ring for several months, and hadn't found more than a few minnows they chose to let go for now in exchange for the whales they could lure in. And suddenly it had blown open, with a shipment of pure cocaine being found in a destroyers hold behind and underneath the typical stores found in the hold of any boat.

Another pass of his office, a short, clipped conversation with Tim, no news, and a snarl at Cynthia for asking him if she could go for the evening later, his cell rang, and he rolled his shoulders. This was the call he'd been looking forward to and dreading at the same time.

"Hey, Sam."

"Hey." Her brow furrowed. "You ok?"

"You psychic now?"  
>"No." He heard her soft scoff. "You get this gravelly thing in your voice when you're upset. And you sound upset."<p>

"I get that when I'm tired, too." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"No, not this one. Tired is a little different. Do I need to let you go?"

"Just waiting on news before I leave."

"So I shouldn't hold dinner?"

"No, you and the girls go ahead and eat. I'll have dinner when I get home." He heard little voices in the background and smiled, even as a knot settled in his chest.

They'd only been home a month, but he was missing dinners already. What was he going to be like in a year or so when the newness of having a family wore off? He frowned as he wondered what he'd do when Sam and the girls moved out. Their new house was almost ready for them to live in, and it wouldn't be but another week or so, and he'd have an empty house once again.

"Jethro? Are you there? I can let you go. I know you're busy." He heard her talking over Allie and Alex, who were no doubt demanding to speak to him. They'd been learning a little English, and he'd been learning a little Lakota, which made talking a little easier, and they couldn't get enough of their Leski Gibbs' attention.

"I'm here." He cleared his throat. "Sorry. Got caught up in thought."

"I should let you go."

"Yeah. See ya tonight."

"I'll wait up for you."

"No need."

"I want to."

"Thanks." He hung up, not wanting to prolong the conversation.

For the next hour, he paced, calling down to Abby's lab several times to check on his surrogate daughter. She finally abandoned her lab, coming up to his office. She sat at his desk, swiveling back and forth in his chair until she stood and joined in his pacing.

Finally, at nearly midnight, they received the long awaited call.

"Hey, Boss!" Tony's voice rang through clearly.

"What the hell happened, DiNozzo?"

"Got down into the belly of that beast, and my comm stopped working. I didn't know it, and I was wondering what was wrong up top, that no one was answering."

"Tony?" Abby's voice shook as she spoke. "You're really ok? Like, ok ok, or are you ok, but hurt ok?"  
>"I'm fine, Abby, not even a hang nail." Gibbs could hear the smile in the younger man's voice. "We're gonna let Ziva drive back, so I'll see you in a bit, ok?"<p>

"Tell her to be careful." Gibbs spoke gruffer than usual. "Don't want to spend the rest of the night pacing outside of the ER."

"Got it, Boss." Gibbs snapped his phone shut and drew Abby into a hug. The young woman had dissolved into tears of relief. He pressed a kiss to her hair, whispering that everything was going to be ok.

Twenty long minutes passed as they waited for anyone on the team to let them know they were back on Yard grounds. There wasn't a call, only a knock on Gibbs' door. He opened it, not sure of who to expect, and smirked as Abby shoved past him, eager to get to her man. Gibbs motioned with his head for them to go into his office, and he stepped out for a moment. He wasn't sure what they'd do, but he was sure he didn't want to watch it.

"Gee, Boss." McGee smiled up from his desk, where he had started writing his report. "You look like hell."

"Can it, McGee." Gibbs' words sounded rough, and Pete paled a bit, but he noticed his more experienced teammates only chuckled. "Do these things tomorrow. Get yourselves home, you've earned it."

"Thank you." Ziva stood and stretched. "It must make you happy to have everyone home and safe?"  
>"Yep. Hate losing agents. Don't even want to think of it when it comes to you guys."<p>

"Especially Tony." She kissed his cheek. "I know. You don't play favorites."

"Nope." He smirked at Pete's shocked expression. "I don't. But I sure am glad you're all back."

"Ya know, Boss, you may want to go interrupt them." McGee stared at Gibbs as sincerely as he could. "I don't know if you know it or not, but they've both got some pretty kinky ideas of what they could do in your…"

"You keep going, Elf Lord, and the name of your next book will be "Thin Line"." McGee tipped his head, trying to think of what Gibbs was referencing. "A thin line, McGee. What your lips will look like after I've let Ziva staple them together."

###########################################

The house was dark as Gibbs pulled up. He stuck his keys in his pocket as he got out of his car, only to pull them back out. After not having a locked door for so many years, he still wasn't accustomed to having to stop for that brief moment before pushing open his front door.

Having a locked door was an inconvenience, yet the company and childish noises that necessitated it were well worth it. He smiled as he saw a few toys littering his hall. Sam had apparently fallen asleep, despite her best efforts. She usually didn't leave anything out, but tonight it warmed a chilly place inside. Perhaps she'd left them there on purpose. He shrugged mentally. Who knew with her.

He started to walk quietly into his kitchen, when her voice stopped him.

"Coffee's fresh brewed, and your dinner's on warm in the oven."

"Didn't think you'd still be up." He looked in to where she'd curled onto the couch, a tiny girl on either side.

"They couldn't sleep." She carefully extracted herself from between them. "The later it got, the more worried they became."

"Taking after you already, I see." Gibbs teased her gently, earning a slight cuff to his shoulder.

"Go on, eat, and then I want to hear about your day."

"Just a lot of useless worrying over what turned out to be nothing." She hm'd behind him, and he knew that he'd once again shot an opportunity to talk to her. He seemed to do that a lot since their argument last month.

_Dammit. _He berated himself as he sat at the table, warm plate and coffee before him. _Three divorces, and I'm doing the same thing to her as I did to them. Screw up once, and clam up. What the hell is wrong with you, Gibbs? Pull yourself together._

Even as he thought the words, he could feel himself withdrawing from making the effort. So far nothing had happened, and it ate at him every day that his gut was wrong. Or it had been so far, at least. Admitting he was wrong, and that he'd almost cost himself someone important wasn't easy. He sighed, cutting into his meatloaf. Bitching at himself wasn't going to solve anything. He'd been trying that for years.

By the time he'd finished his dinner, Sam had already carried Allie and Alex upstairs to their beds. The little ones didn't rouse at all as she laid them down, and she smiled as she kissed their foreheads. They were so in love with their Leski Gibbs. If only he could see how much.

She knew he relaxed with his sanding and various projects, but it bothered her a little that he seemed to avoid them and the rest of the house most of the time anymore. He'd been sociable before bringing the girls home, but since their fight, he'd been quiet, almost to the point of being reclusive.

The girls had ventured down into his workshop once when she was catching up with the laundry, and he'd been outside. The lecture they got on safety was enough to keep them from trying to go down even when he was there, yet they craved his attention.

He'd read to them and help tuck them in, but he seemed to prefer being alone to spending time with them. With a sigh, she realized that she needed to take the first step. She had been wrong in shouting at him. He'd been doing his best to protect his family, and she cringed every time she replayed her words of "They're not your nieces". He had proven over and over that he wanted to be a part of her future in any way, and she had slammed the door on him that afternoon. It was up to her to make it right.

She stepped into the hall just as Gibbs was going into his room to change. He nodded to her, a semi-smile on his face. Apparently he was willing to start walking in her direction, as well, so their talk would be easier than the scenarios she had run through time and again in her head. She hoped it would, at least.

Jethro put on his favorite pair of old jeans and a faded flannel shirt. It was getting chilly down there in the basement, and he knew it'd be a while before he was calm enough to sleep. Having Tony out of touch had been harder on him than he wanted to admit to anyone, especially himself.

He didn't bother tucking in his shirt before trotting down the stairs and into the kitchen. He'd need another cup of coffee or two before he started sanding. That was the secret to his bourbon drinking. No matter how much alcohol he drank, he made sure to balance it with coffee and water. Of course, no one ever saw him drink the water with the exception of Sam and ex-wife number two. Or was it three. They were getting to hard to keep straight.

"Hi." Sam smiled at him as she handed him a fresh cup of coffee. "Can we restart this evening?"

"Sure." Gibbs took a swig of his coffee. "Hi. Thanks for dinner."

"You're welcome."

"Why do I feel like we're in a bad episode of the Twilight Zone?" Gibbs quirked an eyebrow as he spoke.

"I think because we both have things to say, and we're not saying them."

"As you would say, ya'hey." Sam nodded to the couch, and they took seats on opposite ends of the couch.

They sat in silence for a several minutes. Instead of the peaceful, easy silence they'd been accustomed to sharing, this was a tense, pensive silence.

"You gonna say anything?" Gibbs finally looked over at Sam."

"I'm thinking on how to start."

"The best way seems to be by opening your mouth."

"Smartie."

"Uh-huh." Gibbs took another swallow, and set his empty cup on the coffee table.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"Yeah." Gibbs nodded. "I'd say it's a sign of weakness, but then you'd probably slap me."

"No, but I'd correct you."

"So what am I supposed to say now?" Sam rolled her eyes. He was certainly a man.

"How about you tell me why you stay in your basement so much? Are we too loud? Are the girls in the way? What can we do to make you comfortable in your own home again?"

"You think I'm hiding from you?" Gibbs' eyes narrowed. "I got mad when we fought, yes. But I'm not hiding from you." He shrugged. "Well, not most of the time. Some days, I do need space."

"And that's fine. But you're always down in the basement. It's like you don't want to be in the rest of the house."

"Come with me." He stood and strode purposefully to the basement door. "You coming?"

"Let me get up." Sam's voice told of her exasperation. The man was so enigmatic at times that she wished he came with a thought bubble she could turn on when he came through the front door. Now was one of those times.

He jogged easily down the stairs as she followed him at a slower pace. He pulled the chain for the bare bulb that hung in the center of the work area. She furrowed her brow as she took in the projects before her.

"What…"

"They're for you and the girls, Sam." He lowered his head, running his hand over one of the headboards. "I figured that they'll need good beds that'll last."

"This is why you've not been willing to furniture shop with me." Sam's voice shook slightly. "I thought you were trying to avoid spending time with us. I thought…"

"I know." He nodded, still looking down. "You thought I was still mad." Sam nodded as she moved closer to him, taking one of his hands in hers.

"You had a boat down here. I never knew…"

"I wanted to surprise you. Kind of a house warming gift. Guess I should have talked to you."

"Would've helped." Sam rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand. "I'm so sorry I doubted you."

Gibbs nodded, not sure of what to say, but knowing he needed to say something.

"Fell into the same mess I always did with my exes. Just figured you'd know, or wouldn't care."

"I care about you. So much."

With a nod, he pulled her to him.

"So now what?" He sighed as she wrapped her arms around him.

"Now we move forward." She tapped the middle of his back. "And we talk things out, Mister."

"Ok." He pressed a kiss to her hair. "I'm sorry I've been such a bear about the older two not coming. It wasn't my place to say anything."

"You were right to voice your fears, Jethro. Just perhaps, next time, don't make orders."

"Got it."

"And maybe I should have listened. I know your gut speaks loudly."

"It's wrong this time. Nothing's happened."

"Let's keep hoping for the best, then." Sam backed away slightly, smiling up at him. "I think maybe your gut was going crazy because of all of the changes. That doesn't make it wrong, but we can hope."

Gibbs huffed as he smirked. "You like the beds?"

"I do!" She turned from him to run her hands over one of the smooth rails. "This is incredible artwork. You did…amazingly." His arms wrapped around her from behind as he molded himself to her.

"Amazing, huh?" Her hands covered his as she laced their fingers together. She leaned back into him, closing her eyes as she felt his lips caress her ear.

"Thank you for everything, Jethro."

"You're welcome, Sam." He tightened his embrace. "You and those kids are part of my family, too."

"I know. And I'm so sorry I told you they weren't."

"It's over, Sam." Gibbs sighed as she fairly melted into him, wrapping his arms tighter around herself.

"I love you. That hasn't changed."

"I know. You're still not sure where I fit." Sam was quiet for a moment.

"That's not true anymore." She turned in his arms, meeting his gaze. "I can't do this without you. Friends, lovers, whatever we will be, I want you with me."

Gibbs smiled, his heart bursting. For the length of a breath, he simply stared at her. Then his lips gently brushed against hers, nibbling as he moved his mouth softly over hers.

"Hmm." Sam hummed her appreciation, her eyes closing for a moment. Their kiss ended, and she rested her head on his shoulder, feeling his heart thumping in time with hers. "We should go upstairs. Maybe the living room, so I can hear the girls if they wake up."

"They were that upset earlier, huh?"

"Ha. E pi he ceya ha oyasin hepi." _Yes, they were crying all night._

"Sni ha oyasin hepi. Sni anpo nahanhci." _Not all night. Not dawn yet._

"Smartass." Sam toyed with the hair at his nape. "You're learning fast."

"Desperation." Gibbs smiled, his fingers scratching across her back lightly. "After the last time they asked me something and I said yes without understanding…" he shrugged. "Figured it was safer to learn."

"But you looked so handsome with that pepper in your hair." Sam teased, her eyes playful, even though her voice seemed serious. "They just wanted to see how your hair used to look."

"Funny, Sam. I was sneezing for two days, one of which I had to meet with SecNav."

"You poor baby." She teasingly kissed him again, this time letting their embrace grow with passion.

"We should move this upstairs." Gibbs was breathless, and knew that if they continued on their present course, they'd never hear their little ones if they cried.

##################################

The next morning, as Jethro got into his car, he looked at the basement and grinned. They'd been in such a hurry to get upstairs that they'd forgotten to turn out the light. That bulb needed changing anyway.


	89. Chapter 89

Disclaimer: Still don't own NCIS…if I did, Ziva may not have survived the bombing. I know. I know. That's terrible of me to say.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar, my WONDERFUL beta and friend, who has kept at me to write. I love you! Ptbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!

Note: This chapter contains some imaginings of an insane woman. They're in italics. PLEASE don't think that I'm taking the story down this way. No, way. Sorry if the imagery in her delirium is upsetting to any of you. Not intended at all.

###################################

Gibbs chuckled as a short, light body draped itself over his back. Small hands dangled by his collar bones moments later, and the huge yawn that Allie tried to hide right next to his ear made him struggle to keep back his laughter.

"Taku he he, Leski Gibbs?" _What's that, Leski Gibbs?_

"It's another bed." He finished screwing the frame together. "Everyone has a bed now." He repeated himself in Lakota, so his little niece could begin to understand English words.

"Ha, u na kupepi yuha tipi teca." _Yes, and we have a new house._ She sounded as excited, despite talking through a yawn. "Inipi ti lel, ko?" _Are you going to stay here, too?_

"No, Sweetheart. I'm going to sleep in my own house."

"Taku?" _What?_

"Sni, Wate lake." _No, my love. _"Miye ti el miye tipi." _I'll live in my house._

"Econ inipi sni wate lake unkiye pi sni isom?" _Don't you love us anymore?_

Gibbs stopped mid-motion. He set his tools down and tugged her around, so she was sitting cradled in his lap. She accepted his embrace, cuddling into his chest.

"Miye wate lake. He Kte toha kaspapi ni ni." _I love you. That will never change._ His mind flashed to the night Sam had whispered that to him. In their reconciliation, they'd not realized the girls were thinking he was leaving them, since they were moving, and he was not.

"Miye yuha wanci tipi, na miye cin ta el wati yelo." _I have a house, and I want to still live there. _

Sam sat in Alex's room as she rocked the little one to sleep. The walls weren't thin, but she could make out the conversation going on in the other room. Her littlest whimpered once more, and she turned her attention back to Alex.

"It's ok, baby." She'd begun speaking more English around the girls, hoping they'd learn quickly. Jethro, on his part, had invested in a course on CD, and was learning at a nearly alarming rate.

For times like this, she was thrilled. Some of his words were wrong, but he got his point across. And at a time like this, getting a point across was important. Alex shuddered a quiet sob before dropping off to sleep. Sam sat holding her, her ears trained on the words being exchanged in the other room.

"_A long time ago, I had a…_" There was a pause as he searched for the right word. "_Daughter. I lived in my house with she and her mom. Just like your mom went to heaven, so did they."_

"_Both?"_

"_Yes, Allie. Both. I miss them, very much."_

"_But why not live here? We can help you not miss them."_

"_That's sweet of you, honey. It really is. But Aunt Sam and I need to talk about a lot of things before I move here."_

"_Talk about what?"_

"_Oh, about what we want to do."_

"_Why do you want to talk about that? You'll do the same things you always do. You'll go to work, and she'll stay home."_

"_But maybe she wants to live here with you and Alex for a while." _Sam could just imagine Allie's eyes widening with shock as she asked the next question.

"_If you come to live here, we have to leave?"_

"_No." _Gibbs chuckled. "_We can all live here. But I don't know if that's what we'll want to do."_

"_You're funny."_

"_I am? Why?"_

"_You talk too much. We all like you, and this house is so big, and you're all alone in your house."_

"_So that makes me funny?"_

"_Yes. That's why you have wood in your basement. You get bored."_

Gibbs' rich laughter floated to the room, followed by Allie's giggles.

Sam leaned her head back, enjoying the happy sounds as Alex fell asleep on her shoulder.

A short hour later, Gibbs was putting the last board on Allie's bed as she quivered with excitement. Before her was a pretty princess bed, complete with painted on flowers and a pink sheer curtain. As soon as he told her she could get into bed, she bounded across the room, climbed into her bed, and pulled the curtain closed.

Gibbs reached in as he pulled the wisp of pink back. The giggling girl needed her new blanket. She squealed in delight as he stretched a Disney Princess blanket over her before kissing her forehead.

"Iyuta ta itima, oha?" _Try to sleep, ok?_

"Oha." Allie snuggled against her new pillow and into her new blanket. She didn't care if she slept or not. Her new bed was too amazing to get out of just yet, anyway.

He stepped into the hall, listening for a second before stepping into Alex's new room.

Sam was sound asleep, Alex curled over her shoulder, her thumb firmly in her mouth. A little bit of drool dripped onto her aunt's shoulder. Gibbs smiled softly as he picked her up and placed her in her own bed. She had a crib that could be changed into a bed as she grew older, as she was prone to wander in the middle of the night. So far, she'd managed to join Gibbs in the study at three in the morning as he worked on setting up Sam's "office", she'd gotten into the play room and taken most of the toys out of their new toy box, and the most terrifying of all, she'd opened the fridge and helped herself to her sippy cup. It wouldn't have been a problem, had she not nearly closed herself into the chilled appliance in the process. Thankfully, Sam was still up, and had come into the kitchen to put away some clean dish towels.

Alex snuffled a bit in her sleep as Jethro laid her down. A few soft pats to her back, and she was once again peacefully sleeping. His next project was to wake Sam without waking Alex.

He stood over her for a moment, just watching her sleep before bending down and resting his hands on either side of the rocker.

"Hey." The whispered word was enough to make Sam's eyes open somewhat. She smiled at him.

"She in bed?"  
>"Yeah. Down for the count."<p>

"Hm. I think I need to go down for the count, too." Jethro leaned in and brushed her lips against hers. He helped her up, her hand firmly held in his. No words were spoken as he led her from the room and down the hall.

"Moving's hard work." His voice fell into the hair just behind her ear.

"Hm-hm." She yawned, nodding. "Especially with little ones. I don't know how Mary did it all those years."

"Same way you're doing it now." His hands came to rest on her shoulders. "One moment at a time."

Sam turned so she could put her arms on his shoulders. He met her gaze, wondering what she was going to say next. She had the look that usually meant something profound was going to be said, but she was also very tired. He waited, hoping she'd not come out with something overly strange.

"You're wonderful to have around, you know that?"  
>"I try." He smirked. "Not sure I always succeed. Just ask…"<p>

"Your ex-wives. I know." Her hands moved uncertainly for a moment, as if deciding their next move. They finally alighted on his chest, and slid slowly up to his shoulders. "I don't have to ask them. I know." She tugged his head down, asking silently for the kiss he willingly gave her. "You're human, and I'd not want you to be any other way than you are."

"Even when you're mad at me?"

"Even when I'm so mad I can't see straight." Her fingers twirled in the short hair above his collar. "Your sweetness, your gentleness, your terseness, your frustration, your patience, all of it, go in to making the incredible man that you are."

Their lips met in a slow dance, each one tasting and teasing the other. Lower lips were suckled, top lips were nibbled, and hands explored as they could. Gibbs groaned as her fingers brushed against his belt, and she stopped her wandering for a breathless moment.

"Come on, Director Gibbs." Their lips met once more. "Come take a nap with me."

Jethro spooned closely behind Sam, his arms wrapped tightly around her. The girls would only sleep for an hour or so, and they'd both need a recharge before the tiny tornadoes were loose in the house once more. But this time, this precious time of simply sleeping, cuddling, and sharing would not be wasted by working without the girls.

###################################

Carol sighed with resignation as the cuffs snapped on her wrists. Hopefully, this would be the last trip with them on, but it was mandatory. Everyone receiving a police escort to any mental hospital was to be cuffed for the protection of the transporting officers.

At least she was off to a mental hospital. This was one step closer to total freedom. And freedom would be her gate to getting revenge. She sat back and began to think of her tormentors. _Tormentors._ That's how she'd come to think of Sam, Gibbs, and Christopher Southerland. They were tormentors, determined to see her suffer for ratting their leader out.

Scenarios and plots raced through her head, one right on the heels of the next. She knew Sam wasn't as innocent as Southerland made her out to be in court. There was no way. With that "knowledge", Carol began to see how it all worked. Sam was indeed a mastermind.

"_This is how it's going to be, Christopher," Sam purred into her lover's ear. "You're going to pretend to offer your legal services to me for free. I'll accept, and then, together, with Director Gibbs, we'll weave a net of deception so cleverly spun that no one will see through it. Only that bitch Carol, with her truth and her damned insistence at proving my guilt will know."_

"_Yes, Mistress." Southerland hung several inches off the ground, his wrists supporting the majority of his weight. The handcuffs she'd chosen were thick leather. They'd not leave heavy marks, but were designed to be pleasurable. _

_Moments passed in silence. _

Another presence made itself known in her twisted imagination. Gibbs. His powerful presence invaded her mind, deciding on his activity. Or perhaps Sam was deciding. Maybe she was. But if she was, then she was crazy. And Carol knew she wasn't crazy.

In that moment, she decided that she was seeing in her mind what had really happened. It had to be what had taken place. Insanity wasn't a problem for her. Just because the courts and some damned psychiatrist had decided she had delusions, didn't mean she did.

Just because her version of what had happened on the farm and in town was vastly different from what was on record or everyone else "remembered" didn't mean she was out of touch with reality. She was the _only_ one in touch with reality. Sam had clouded everyone else's minds, making them incapable of seeing past her net of lies.

_Gibbs stalked across her mind, glaring at her, demanding that she step back and let him have his moment. _Carol felt herself withdraw from the scene in her mind, letting the "truth" come forward.

_Sam gave an order, and Gibbs stripped before stepping up to Southerland, squeezing the man roughly._

"_Anything for you, Mistress." Gibbs sank to his knees…._

"Come on, Miss Jordan. Time to wake up." The officer tugged on her cuffed hands. "We're here. Time to get you into your little padded cell."

"Don't talk to me like that." Carol's voice was venomous.

"I've known you since you first came to my jail." The officer chuckled. "I know exactly why you're headed here, and I know you'll try to do anything to get free."

"You're in…"

Officer Peters narrowed his eyes. "I'm what?"

"Nothing."

"Good answer."

He escorted her inside, followed closely by his partner, Officer Janet Parsons. The department was going to take no chances with this one. She had two escorts, video recording, and voice recording for the entire journey. She'd proven over and over in the past several months that she'd lost touch with reality, and the department wasn't going to risk a lawsuit. Not for her.

Once they were through the secure doors, a woman with a lab coat and scrubs met them. Carol just scowled. She was supposed to be going to a mental ward. Not a freaking hospital. The orderly simply nodded to the officers, who followed with Carol between them down the hall.

At the first crossing, they turned left. _Isolation Units_ was written in bold letters across the top, and the orderly ran her badge through a scanner before pressing the button to grant them access.

"This will be your room, Ms. Jordan."

"Excuse me? I'm supposed to be…"

"Right here." The orderly smiled benignly. "All new patients are subjected to 72 hours of isolation and observation before they're allowed to join the rest of the patients."

Carol screamed in rage as the door shut, locking her in to a new cell. It wasn't as rough as her jail cell had been, but it was far below her hoped for standards. She looked around for something to throw. There was nothing. This room was set up for violent people.

Fine. She'd be as docile as possible, and give them all of the answers they wanted. Perhaps by playing the game that Sam was orchestrating, she'd be able to achieve her freedom. And with freedom would come vengeance. What a sweet word. Vengeance.

####################################

Sam had the water ready with a few scented bubbles when Gibbs entered the bathroom. In each arm, he carried a giggling, squealing little girl who wanted to play horsey on his knees just a little bit longer before getting into the tub.

Alex pointed excitedly to the bubbles, suddenly changing her mind about playing horsey. She nearly fell from Gibbs' arms as Sam helped Allie to the floor so she could undress and use the potty. Gibbs removed Alex's diaper, chatting with her the whole time. He told her of how her eyes were so pretty, and of how she'd look like a princess with a ring of bubbles on her hair.

The little girl just nodded, not really understanding what he was saying. He wasn't even sure she cared. She'd not said a real word since her mother died. Yes, she'd made sounds. She'd cried, she'd laughed, and as his poor ear was still giving testimony to, she was quite capable of a high pitched squeal of excitement.

He got her to sit on the pot for a brief moment, more out of hope than actual need. She balanced for a second before whining pitifully, holding her arms out to him to help her down. Her diaper had been sodden, so he was sure there'd be no mistakes.

Into the tub she flew, her arms stretched out like Superman, her legs drawn up as if she was doing a perfect cannon-ball, and her eyes wide as her body disappeared gently beneath the bubbles. Allie was already in the water, and helped her sister form a beard just like hers. The girls giggled and decorated with bubbles until their fingers were pruned, and the water was getting chilly.

"Tohantu wojaja na icu sni, wici." _Time to wash and get out, girls._

"Sni." Allie's face puckered into a sorrowful pout. "U cin kupepi skata." _No. We want to play._

"E he nunse tohantu ta itima." _It's almost sleeping time._

The girls both turned pleading eyes to Gibbs, who had retreated to the doorway to watch the girls play while Sam stuck close to be sure they were safe in the water.

"Leski Gibbs, iyokipi? Okihi inipi okiya unkiye pi?" _Please, Uncle Gibbs? Can you help us?_

"Sni. Anagoptan a nitawa Tunwin Sam. Winyan kaga ki woopi, sni miye." _No. Listen to your Aunt Sam. She makes the rules, not me. _

Both girls seemed to deflate, and Jethro felt like a monster. He knew he should follow Sam's lead, especially since the fight at her in-laws house. But their tiny pouts were nearly his undoing. He was still debating angering Sam by joining their side when Allie had an idea.

"Tunwin Sam? Okihi Leski Gibbs wojaja pehi unkitawa?" _Aunt Sam? Can Uncle Gibbs wash our hair?_

"Ha. Inipi ki iyunga ica iye."_ Yes. You have to ask him._

"Leski?" Allie turned imploring eyes to him once more. "Okihi inipi?" _Uncle? Can you?_

####################################

The girls had been tucked in for nearly twenty minutes before Sam finally joined Jethro on the couch.

"'Bout time you got here, Woman," Gibbs growled playfully as he tugged her down beside him.

"Yeah, I know. I do too much before bed."

"Nah. I'm just demanding of your time." Sam rolled her eyes as she shook her head, leaning into him.

"Thanks for helping with bath time tonight."

"Of course." His arms came around her. "I'm just sorry I can't be here every night."

"Me, too." She lifted her face, kissing his jaw gently. "It's quiet without you here."

"Quiet?" He laughed. "I rarely talk."

"True, but the girls…"

"What about them?"

"They're…happier, I guess, when you're here. They laugh more." She shrugged. "I guess, since we're here in our new house, and not at yours anymore, that it's all new again, but they seem so quiet. Like they're afraid to mess anything up."

"They'll get over it, little by little." He grinned. "Neither one had any problem making a mess in the bathroom tonight."

"No, they didn't." Sam moved so she was reclining on his chest, her head pressed to his heart. She looked up with a mischievous smirk. "And you looked pretty good with that shampoo beard, if I do say so myself."

He chuckled as he wrapped his arms tighter around her. They sat quietly for several minutes, each lost in thought.

"I'm worried about Alex." Sam broke the silence.

"Why?"

"She was talking a little before Mary passed, and now, well, it's like she's gone somewhere inside; and I can't pull her out. She laughs so easily, and she's so happy, and yet I'm worried that I'm doing something wrong. Or not good enough. Maybe we moved too soon."

"I'll have Ducky talk to her. He may have some ideas."

"Ducky?"

"Yeah. He's a psychologist."

"I didn't know that."

"He does more of the figuring out suspects stuff, but he's good at what he does."

"Doesn't he work in the morgue?"

"Yeah, that's part of his job. But he talks to living people, too."

"Hm. Not sure I want someone who has all of those wanagi around my girls."

"Wanagi?"

"Ghosts."

"You really worried about that?"

"Yes." She looked up at him. "When people die, the good part of them goes to heaven, and the bad stays here and makes trouble. He's in a room with all of those bodies who haven't lost the bad things yet." She straightened up further. "Are you laughing at me?"  
>"No." Gibbs tried to hide his smile. "I can just picture me explaining to Ducky why he can't come see the farm."<p>

Sam was ready to give him a cutting reply when a cry was heard upstairs.

Alex was awake, and she sounded terrified. Sam was off of the couch and up the stairs before Gibbs was even half way standing. So much for her worrying about not being quick enough for the little ones.

She returned a few minutes later with Alex in her arms. The little girls' hair was soaking with sweat, and her eyes were puffy from tears.

"Aww, were you crying in your sleep?" Gibbs reached out to her, and she willingly snuggled into his chest as Sam went to the kitchen to get her a drink. He began to hum a soft lullaby, hoping she'd close her eyes and go back to sleep fairly soon.

The longer he hummed, the more she wiggled, as if trying to find the absolute perfect spot on his chest. She finally sat up, her eyes sparkling.

"Did you forget about your bad dream?" She cocked her head for a moment, and then nodded.

"You're learning, huh? Good. So am I. So one day, we'll be able to talk to one another, won't we?" Alex nodded and thumped her head back down, hitting him rather painfully on his collarbone. She didn't seem to notice.

When Sam came back in, Alex crawled onto her lap, looking up to Gibbs with wide eyes. The adults played with their niece for quite a while before the yawns began to come once more. She'd had her fingers and toes nibbled on by one, and raspberries blown on her belly by the other.

Life was beginning to make sense again to the little girl. Words were still strange, and sometimes she understood, but sometimes they sounded so strange. The man with grandpa hair loved them. She was sure of it. Alex still didn't understand why her other sisters weren't here, or why they had a new house, or why Unci and Tunkasila didn't come with them.

She yawned again and laid her head down on Sam's shoulder, one thumb stuck firmly in her mouth. The other hand was on Gibbs' arm, and she let her eyes slowly drift shut. Her family was strange, but they were full of love. And that's all her little heart needed to know.


	90. Chapter 90

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Wish I did, but I don't. It's a pity, really. I'd treat DiNozzo a whole lot better than the show's doing right now, that's for sure!

Note: This chapter is M! It is M for a reason! Just be forewarned!

Note: Also, a shout out to Stareagle, who was disappointed that I didn't melt her monitor a couple of chapters ago. Hopefully this will ease your distress. *grin* *wink*

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Amy had begged for permission to go to the movies with her friends, and as she dressed, she was thrilled to have won her way. Aunt Sam had agreed with her grandparents that she was too young for a real date, but she was old enough to go with a group. While the teen didn't see the difference, she was happy to get to spend the evening with the cutest boy in school.

Darrin Seacrest was a new boy in her class. He'd moved to their reservation from Kansas City, due to his father being appointed by the Bureau of Indian Affairs. And Darrin was marvelous. His Anglo father had given him a mane of thick, curled hair, blue eyes, and a broad jaw, rather than the finer line of his Wichita ancestors.

Amy bounced from her room, her smile firmly in place as she presented herself for her grandmother's approval. She wore a pair of well-broken jeans, a brightly colored top, and ear rings. Doris nodded her approval.

"Inipi wanyanke lila omawaste." _You look very nice._

"Pilamayaye." _Thank you._ Amy blushed and bit her lip. "Econ ec inipii Darrin kte iyececa miye?" _Do you think Darrin will like me?_

"Amy, Darrin waste inipi, nahan iye waste inipi. Sni waste? Takwue kte e awanyanka? Inipi he waste eses." _Amy, if Darrin likes you, he likes you. If he doesn't? Why does it matter? You are pretty, anyway._

###############################################

Howard was bored. He'd watched newscast after newscast of himself. Of course, the stations didn't have a name, so he'd been dubbed the "Roaming Raider". What a name. He smiled as he realized that he'd made the FBI's Most Wanted List and had never given up his identity.

His next thought was to enjoy himself for the evening. There wasn't anything more he could do. After all, he was between killings, and his next would require more preparation. He planned to practice on small town police officers before he moved on to his ultimate goal: a Federal officer. Preferably a beautiful woman. However, he'd take a man.

Howard closed his eyes, reveling in a sudden memory. Yes. A man would be perfect. A man like his latest kill. Oh, he had been perfect. Beautiful for a man. Muscular, not too tall, and his ass had been…delightful.

Rifling through his pack, he pulled out the single DVD that held the recordings of his killings. Since Veronica, he'd taped portions of each one, always acting out some fantasy that he could enjoy some evening when he was alone.

Tonight his "companion" would be Raphael. The man hadn't died well. He'd begged, he'd pleaded. And he'd done anything Howard had asked him to, all in a failed effort to live. The best part was that he had it all on tape.

Six hours of pleasure had been edited until his favored DVD held the best forty minutes of the man's struggle for survival. His death had been quick in comparison to some, as Howard hadn't had the heart to make the man suffer.

The man had allowed Howard to use his body, even begging for release when Howard had ordered him to. Hours had passed, and when Raphael was convinced he'd be let go, Howard injected the poison into his system.

Raphael could feel the cold stealing along his veins, but was unable to fight against it. He could feel Howard's body forcibly penetrate his once more, but was unable to move or receive pleasure from it. Fear began to cloud his mind, permitting tears to leak from his eyes as Howard grunted his release into him once more.

And then came the moment he knew his life was over. Although he couldn't move, and his vision was dimming, he felt the noose slip over his head.

"You're going to be my experiment, Raphael. My beautiful, sexy experiment. I want to see if a man really gets an erection if he's strangled."

There was a pain in his spine as he felt his body being lifted by his neck. The pain worsened as he was less and less able to draw a breath. He felt Howard's hands running along his legs, and then encasing his engorged member. His lungs were burning, and his eyes felt like they were ready to explode. He felt as if he was being swung in a circle. A sudden stop, a moment of torturous pain…

Howard was breathless by the time he watched himself breaking Raphael's neck in the noose. He heard the snap of the man's neck, and he jerked himself hard, twisting as hard as he could, timing his release with the man's death.

He stroked his torso lightly, spreading his flood across his body, just as Raphael's had coated his chest and stomach so many times that night. He fell asleep with his fingers still playing in the sticky mess, imagining what it would be like to keep a man for as long as he'd kept Veronica.

A smile played across his face as he dreamed of his Fed. He'd keep a federal man for so long he'd forget who he was. He'd be Howard's to do with as he pleased. And then, when he'd had his fill of exploring his body and he was sated as much as possible from another male, he'd strike.

And when he struck, he'd make sure the entire nation knew about it. He'd make a spectacle of the man. Perhaps he'd display the lifeless body. Perhaps he'd throw the body beside a busy highway. But he'd find some way of really making everyone know who he was, and how great he was. After all, only someone with genius could keep going like he had been. He was better than the military. He was better than the police of any city. He was better than anyone in any federal agency that existed.

He was the Roaming Raider. The Roaming Raider was invincible. The Roaming Raider was famous.

########################

Dawn broke across the sky. Gibbs sighed as he cuddled closer to Sam. He didn't want to have to leave, but he'd been away from DC for nearly 37 hours. In the job of Director of a federal agency, that was nearly forever. To have to leave on a Sunday afternoon so he could catch everything up for Monday morning was inhumane. He tried to force himself back to sleep, but his body and mind wouldn't agree.

"I can feel you thinking." Sam rolled onto her back, reaching over to run her fingers over his stubbly chin. "What's got you awake so early?" He pressed a kiss to her palm.

"Just thinking of going back to DC."

"How soon do you need to go?" Her voice was quiet, and he smirked as she turned to face him, her arms encasing him, holding him tightly.

"I'll take off about ten."

"Would it help if I said I didn't want you to go?"

Gibbs shrugged the best he could and ran his hands down her back.

"May help me stay in bed a little longer."

"Oh, you were planning on getting up?" Sam chuckled as she rose onto her elbow, pushing him to his back. "You're not allowed to yet."

"That so." He quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes." Their lips met in a slow, sensual kiss that had his toes curling long before her naughty teeth nipped at his chin. "You can't go until I've had my way with you." Her brown eyes twinkled as he laughed.

"Isn't that my line?"

"I stole it."

"Hm. What else are you going to steal?" His voice was husky with sleep and desire.

"Just this." Her hand snaked down his stomach, past the elastic in his boxers, and stroked the prize beneath. Sam watched as his eyes closed. She continued to stroke and tease, moving down his body with her mouth, until all of her movements were focused on that one part of his body.

One of his hands went to his face, where his fingers splayed across his forehead and into his hair, pulling at it as he gave himself over to her ministrations. His other hand cupped the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he wordlessly gasped his pleasure.

She felt the first spurt of his release, and slowed down a bit. He groaned, his hips thrusting up to meet her lapping tongue. She tasted the slit, and he gasped.

"Enough." His eyes met hers. "Gotta stop."

"No, you don't have to." She smiled as she bent to kiss her "toy".

"Yeah, ya do. Want to please you, too."

Sam slowly made her way back up his body, teasing him as she neared his chest. She knew that she'd pushed him to the limit, and wasn't disappointed when he drew her leg over his thigh. Her hips neared his, only to have him back away for a moment.

He kissed her, his tongue ravaging her mouth as he drove his fingers into her hot core.

"Jeth!" She cried out as he began an assault on her. Her teeth sunk into his neck in an effort to not scream and wake the little ones just down the hall.

Gibbs rolled her onto her back as he drove into her. His mouth covered hers, swallowing her cries of pleasured pain as he pumped forcefully, hitting her cervix again and again. Her feet locked behind the small of his back, her knees were at his shoulders, and when he felt her begin to pulse around him, he doubled his pace.

With a soundless scream, Sam raced past a simple climax, and careened headlong into an intense orgasm. Her slick passage milked and massaged Gibbs', emptying him of everything. His body jerked against hers as he rode out his orgasm moments before he collapsed onto her.

"Oh, G…" Sam shifted beneath him, making them both gasp as their sensitive organs pulsed against one another.

Their breathing was the only sound to be heard for several minutes. Sam wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders, keeping him close as they recovered.

"I love you." His breath tickled the hair by her ear as he spoke.

"Love you, too." Gibbs met her mouth, showing his love once more before moving off of her.

#################################

Gibbs sat at the table reading the morning paper and drinking his third cup of coffee when Allie and Alex decided to wake up. Allie had watched, learning how to let her baby sister out of her bed. Gibbs had been mildly surprised when she led her sister down the stairs the first time, and then he remembered how clever Kelly had been at getting what she wanted.

Sam had run outside to check on the few goats while the little ones still slept, and Gibbs treasured these few minutes with his girls. He loved how they smelled of baby shampoo and wanted nothing more than cuddles. Another smirk crossed his features as he thought of some of the more…tentative agents he worked with seeing him like this. His bad-ass image would completely disappear to be replaced with a teddy bear. Even when he tried to be firm and growly with them, they simply giggled and crawled into his lap. He was a gonner, and they weren't even old enough for school yet.

"U he kupepi locin." _We're hungry._ Allie playfully held his face in her hands.

"Inipi he locin? Sni pica. Inipi wota taleha." _You're hungry? Not possible. You ate yesterday._

Allie readjusted herself on his lap, linking arms with Alex, who was more into snuggling than she was in to asking for breakfast. She set her shoulders, cocked her head, and spoke patiently, as if she thought he was serious.

"Inipi ki ta wok'u ica iyohi la anpetu." _You need to feed us every day._

"Iyohi la anpetu?" _Every day?_

"HA!" Allie's tummy took that moment to growl, and she looked down at it with wide eyes. "Wa miye ya ca ka." _Yes! See, I told you so!_

"Hau, inipi econ." _Yes, you did. _Gibbs spoke slowly, letting the girls hear the sound of the relatively new words. "I'm going to make you eggs. So you sit down, and just give me a minute."

The two little ones nodded, not sure they were understanding, but they were sure that if he was getting up, then breakfast was on its way.

Sam was back in and cleaned up by the time Gibbs finished scrambling a few eggs and buttering the toast. She gave him a quick kiss as she passed before hugging and kissing each of the girls good morning. Breakfast was noisy, as Allie told everyone about her dream of running with really big puppies. Of course, this morphed into the question of how soon they could get one.

By the time breakfast was done, the puppy question had been debated and argued, and the dishes were soaking, it was time for Gibbs to leave. A heaviness sat in his chest as he explained to the girls that he would be gone for several days.

Tears filled their eyes, and Allie begged him to not go. Gibbs promised to call, and Sam agreed that if he was busy and didn't realize the time, that she'd call before bedtime every day, so they could all say good night to one another.

It was during this time, that Alex spoke. Her voice was tiny, as if she was terrified of the noise coming from herself. When he heard her words, Gibbs scooped her close, looking over to Sam for direction.

"Iyokipi econ sni bla, Ate. Miye kte ohan omawaste." _Please don't go, Daddy. I'll be good._


	91. Chapter 91

Disclaimer: I don't own it!

Note: Thanks to my fabulous beta, Headbanger Rockstar!

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Gibbs pulled Alex closer to him, cradling her tiny head against his heart. Tears filled his eyes, but he refused to let them fall just yet. He and Sam had known that she'd been confused since leaving her home, but this was unexpected. They didn't realize that her toddler mind wouldn't remember her mother. She'd never known a father, so perhaps this was why she called him Ate. A look to Sam, and he knew that now wasn't the time to correct her.

"I'm so sorry." Sam's voice was hushed. "I don't know…"

"It's ok." He started to rock his little niece gently, one hand patting her back, and the other still captured in her tiny hands. "I…"

"It reminds you of Kelly." Sam nodded. "I'm not even sure of how to tell them that you're not…"

"She's never known a Daddy, Sam, and I'm not sure Allie really remembers Vernon." Sam looked slightly confused, so he told her of the time Joseph had spoken of their father, and Allie asked who he was. She'd wanted to know where he was, why he'd gone, and what he'd looked like.

"I didn't know that. Joseph never said anything about it."

"I thought you heard them talking."

"No. So, what should we do?"

"Not sure." Gibbs sighed as Alex settled a bit in his arms, finally beginning to relax. "Never had to deal with this with Kelly. Guess the best place to start is by answering questions the best we can."

"But what about them calling you Ate? You looked so upset, and I don't know how to tell her she can't call you that."

"I'm not upset, Sam." Gibbs pressed his lips to Alex's hair as the thought of how to say what he felt. "It's been a long time since I was called Daddy, and it caught me off guard." He cleared his throat. "Makes me sad to think that she's never known her dad. In her mind, I'm it. And I can't take that away from her." His eyes met hers. "I won't, unless you ask me to tell her I'm not her dad."

"I'm not sure that I can, either, Jethro. She's not spoken, and her first words are to you." A moment later, Sam gave a nod. "I'm fine with it, Gibbs, on some conditions."

"Yes?"

"You're willing to help me explain it to the older kids."

"Done."

"You're in their lives forever now, no matter what path we take. If we don't work out, don't you dare walk away from them."

"Never. I'm not walking away from any of you."

"And the last thing that I'll ask is that we never fight in front of the kids. Yes, we can disagree, but no ugliness. No shouting, no names, nothing like that at all, no matter how angry we are. All they ever saw was arguments with Vernon and Mary. I'll not put them through that again."

"Agreed." Gibbs nodded. "Now, for mine."

"Yours?" Sam smirked. She should have known.

"Yep. I've got two. If I can't get away for the weekend, then you come to DC with the girls so I can see all of you."

"That's easy enough."

"The second may not be."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. If something happens, and we do break off our…whatever this is, then I get visitation. If I'm Dad, then I'm gonna be Dad. Not for now, not when it's easy, but until the day I die."

"That won't be hard at all, Jethro." Sam leaned over and kissed his cheek. "They need a good man watching out for them. All children do."

"Yep. And Sam?"

"Yes?"

"I'm not talking about just these two. The other three may never call me Ate, and that's fine. But I want to be in all of their lives. If they'll have me, that is."

#################

Carol sat in her therapy group, listening to the tales of woe surrounding her. Each and every one of the women had the same goal: Healing. Couldn't they see that they weren't in the wrong? The woman with the abusive husband who said she needed help after she'd tried to commit suicide wasn't wrong. He must have done something to her. His repeated requests for her to get into therapy before her attempt were just emotional barbs.

The woman who suffered from PTSD and wanted to live free of flash-backs wasn't wrong. Her mind was showing her reality. So what if she didn't want to see it anymore? So what if she found it painful? Life was pain.

Carol gritted her teeth and shared when it came to her turn. She'd learned in jail to play the game, and she poured on the syrup now. She told of how she wanted to be rid of ideas that weren't real. She wanted to be rid of the dreaded mental illness that had robbed her of her job and life.

All around the circle, women smiled and nodded. Her therapist told her of what a lot of progress she'd been making. Carol smiled benignly and acted shy. That was what all of the other women had done. She'd seen one after the other be granted day-passes once they'd reached a point in their therapy.

From that time, they were granted greater and greater freedom as they learned to "cope" with the world around them. That was all Carol wanted. She wasn't sick, and no amount of psycho-babble could convince her she was. All she needed now was to play the game well enough to have a few hours of unsupervised time.

Even as she spoke of healing, her mind revolved around revenge. She would move fast. She would move silent. And most of all, she would be deadly. On that day, her troubles would all end.

###############

Gibbs sighed as he sat down at his desk. Cynthia had been in with a fresh can of coffee and more filters, which he nodded his thanks for before returning to the stack of files that needed signing off on. He felt bad about needing her to come in, especially since she'd likely be just sitting for hours, but he'd already learned in the last few months that to not have someone answering his phone and prioritizing calls meant he'd not get anything done.

He read through reports, marking if any needed further information, signing off on ones he felt were complete enough, and signed off on case files that had grown cold. He was the final say in letting something go or not, and he found it difficult to do. Yes, he understood that it sometimes happened, but the idea of letting a criminal get away with something for now sat in his stomach like a rock.

Four hours later, he signed off on the last report and looked up at his clock. It was getting late in the afternoon, and he'd taken up most of Cynthia's day.

"Thanks, Cynthia." Gibbs stood before her desk, stretching out the crick in his neck. "You can go. Sorry to take your Sunday."

"That's ok, Director." The young woman stood up, and he knew she'd agreed to come in only because it was her job. She had to have some sort of life, and he knew she'd basically lost it to NCIS. Next week he'd start looking at a part-time replacement for her. He didn't want to lose her talent and discretion. Something as simple as weekends free may keep her from burning out or feeling overworked and underappreciated. Then again, he'd best talk to her first. Women had a bad habit of jumping to the wrong conclusions, and he didn't want to worry her.

##################

Tony bounced on another couch, his eyebrows wiggling as he patted the cushion next to him.

"What about this one?"

Abby sat more sedately, and curled into his side.

"I'm not liking the leather."

"Seriously? That's the best feature!"

"It's nice now, cuz we're wearing jeans." Abby rubbed her hand along it, grimacing at the sound her skin made as it caught on the surface. "Just imagine what it'll be like when it's hot, and we're wearing shorts. Our legs will be doing that."

"Point taken." Tony stood and offered Abby his hand. "Next choice, which is a pleasant material."

"How about if I get to pick the next one?" Tony shrugged.

"Lead on, my lovely Mistress of the Dark."

They playfully argued over choices of recliners, sectionals, hide-a-beds, and plain old couches for the next two hours. Even a few beds had been bounced on and tested for comfort. Tony felt a peace he'd not felt with a girlfriend before, but he wasn't sure now was the time to say anything, or if saying anything would just be foolish. After all, they were just buying a couch.

"You're getting quiet, Mr. DiNozzo. What's going on in that brain of yours?" Abby plopped down on his lap when they tested the next couch.

"Just thinking that I've never furniture shopped with a girlfriend before." He pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I like it."

"Really? I'm your first?" Her eyebrows wiggled. He rolled his eyes, not sure he really wanted to know what she had up her sleeve, while at the same time, his love of her adventurous side made him nearly shake with the desire to know what her mind was twirling around in its thoughts.

He didn't have to wait long to find out just what she had in mind. They stopped to look at a table, and he found himself holding in a groan as she traced her finger across _that_ spot. Of course she'd do that.

Less than five steps later, he was sucking in his breath again as she ghosted her fingers across his crotch when she stepped around him to supposedly look at a lamp.

"Abby." She looked up at him innocently. "Stop it."

"Stop what, Tony?" She was the epitome of innocence as her green eyes locked on his.

"You know what." She huffed a bit and walked away, sitting down on a couch that they had both agreed looked like a mistake in a crayon factory.

"This is comfy, Tony." She waved him over. "You really should try it."

"I'm not sitting on that thing, and it's not going in my apartment." Abby smirked to herself. He was getting testy. And a testy Tony was a horny Tony.

"Have you picked one out yet?" Abby stood and walked back to her boyfriend. His lips met hers in a quick kiss.

"Yep. I like that sectional. You know, the one with the four seats, two of which make into recliners?"

"I like that one, too."

"Good. I was hoping you did."

"If I didn't, would you be willing to look at others?" A soft smile broke out on Tony's face.

"For you, yes." Abby's face lit up as if he'd just said the most romantic thing in the world to her, and she tugged his mouth to hers. She backed away from him when he tried to deepen their kiss.

"Not here." Her lips brushed the sensitive hair surrounding his ear as she spoke. "I want to get you home, where I don't have to stop."

"Soon as I pay." With a determined air, he headed off in search of a sales clerk.

#######################

Abby lay back on the table, her breath coming in short pants as Tony laved his way down her abdomen. They'd done some grocery shopping, as in getting canned goods and non-perishables that would last for their crazy weeks at work. The bags sat neglected on one end of the table.

Tony groaned as he reached the waist of her short skirt. Her shirt had already been unbuttoned, and as he glanced up her body before unzipping the plaid mini before him, his breath caught. She was a bountiful, beautiful feast spread out for him.

It only took seconds for him to release the zipper, and he focused on her body once more. As his fingers explored and tormented her nether regions, his mouth latched hungrily onto her breast.

"Tony!" Her fingers clutched into his hair as her legs came up to surround him. "Oh, g…"

"Soon, Baby, soon." Tony continued to tease, bringing her to the edge of her passion before just backing off.

He waited until her entire body was quivering with passion and unrequited desire before he sank into her soaking heat. Her passage throbbed, threatening to pull him into the abyss as she screamed his name.

Somewhere in the distance, there was a loud bang. Neither of them realized it was the sound of canned goods rolling from the table as they coupled. Abby felt the intense coil begin in her body, and tried to hold off a little longer. Tony was making her feel things she'd never felt with anyone, and she wanted to hold on to that moment.

He changed the angle of his thrusting, allowing him to slip a finger into her tight channel. She let out a shriek of pleasure as he rubbed hard on her g-spot as he pumped into her. Her legs tightened, trapping his hand between their bodies, and he grunted with every thrust.

Something was happening, and Abby was aware of thoughts trying to creep into her mind. However, sensation kept her conscious thoughts at bay, as everything in her focused on Tony and what he was doing to her body. She'd never had a lover like him. No one had ever taken the time to enjoy her body like he did.

And now this new…oh, gods, she didn't even know how to think just now. She thought she'd known release before. She thought she'd known passion before. Thoughts were all passé as her world narrowed to her lover and what he was doing to her body. She was unaware of her litany of love that she murmured into his ear, or of his gasped acknowledgements of her beauty.

Ecstasy broke over her in an intense way that she'd only read about before. For a moment, her world ended. She floated in perfection, every nerve ending on fire and tingling with pleasure and fulfillment.

Tony watched as Abby careened past the threshold of her climax. She'd always seemed to be denied the elusive orgasm, and he was thrilled to have finally discovered something that he could bring her to completion with. It wasn't fair in his mind that he orgasm every time, and she barely make it there sometimes. He didn't understand the difference in the make up between men and women, but he was glad to have found her "key".

He let himself go with a shout as he filled her with his seed. They'd not bothered with a condom, as she'd been on birth control for months, and he felt himself nearly hoping she'd missed a dose. He wanted so many things with her. More moments like this. Children. Gray hair. Love.

When he felt Abby's body go limp beneath him, he looked down on her as he settled himself over her body, enjoying the subtle after-shocks of her passion. Little kisses and murmured phrases finally started to bring her around. The dazed look in her green eyes had a small smile toying at the edges of his mouth.

He'd always known that he'd know when it was time, and now, he did. She'd never been more beautiful. Her mouth met his in a gentle teasing, and he gladly played with her.

As he kissed her, he lifted his foot a bit, bringing his pants a little higher from where they drooped.

"Dammit." He rolled his eyes as he fumbled them.

"What are you trying to do?" She looked down his body, giggling as his shuffling tickled her a bit.

"I need something from my pocket."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes." She rolled her eyes and pushed at his chest.

"Then pick up your pants."

"No." He kissed her once more, his softened cock brushing along her insides, where he lay still buried in her depths. "Don't wanna move from here."

Abby grinned as she wiggled her bottom a bit, making Tony gasp at the sensation.

"Give a guy a break, will ya?" He playfully nipped at her throat.

"Just trying to give you some incentive to move _somewhere_."

"Hm." He kissed her once more. When he tried for his pants again, he reached down farther, making sure to snag his belt. "Success!" With a boyish smile, he settled back down onto her once more. "You comfy here? Position ok? Am I too heavy?"  
>"Yes, yes, and no." Abby wiped the hair from his forehead. "Not that I'm complaining, but you're acting pretty strange here."<p>

"Good strange, I hope." He nipped her breast, kissing away the stinging he'd created.

"Very good strange." Abby smiled. "A strange I wish I could have every day."

"That's great." Tony pulled something from his pocket finally, and Abby's eyes flew wide. "I'd like to do this every day for the rest of my life, too."

"Really?" Abby's hands stroked up his chest.

"Really." Tony nodded. "And that, Abigail Scuitto, is why I'd like to ask you to marry me."

He pulled the blue velvet box into her line of vision.

"I'd planned on asking you tonight, over dinner at some fancy restaurant, which we'll still go, if you want to go out, or we can do take out, a movie, and bed, if you'd rather." She put her fingers to his mouth to stop his rambling.

With a kiss to her fingertips, he continued, this time without the nervous chatter.

"Abby, I am so in love with you." He paused, thinking of his next sentence. He'd thought it all out, and now what he'd planned to talk about, and how he'd thought of the reasons they should get married, he realized only one thing mattered.

"I love you, too, Tony." He beamed as he pressed a kiss to her lips.

"I had this whole speech planned out. I was going to convince you of what a good idea it would be to marry me, and of all the pro's to getting married." He turned serious. "But then I realized that none of that matters. The only thing that matters is that I love you, Abby." His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "I love you more than I can explain. And I don't want to be without you ever again. Not when I go to bed, or when I get up. I don't want to go to dinner by myself ever again."

Abby's eyes filled with tears, and he wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

"So, will you…"

His question was cut off as another round of lovemaking began. This time, of course, she asked to go to their bedroom.

"It's my turn to blow your mind." Abby's cheeks took on a rosy blush. "Hubby."


	92. A Note From Headbanger

Hi everybody!

Goats asked me to write this up for her to give you all an update on the story. She's been having some more health issues—not life threatening or anything, but just having a difficult time right now—and she is still working on writing updates for her story, but it's slow in coming and may be a while before she can update. She just didn't want to leave you guys hanging and wondering about the story.

So stay tuned, and Goats will be back just as soon as she's able.

Thanks!

Headbanger_Rockstar


	93. Chapter 93

Disclaimer: it's sad, but I still don't own it. If I did, then I'm sure we'd have come up with a cure for me by now. (yes, that was snarky, and yes, my doc, if he's reading, will Gibbs'-slap me when I get into his office later)

Author's note: Thanks to my beta, Headbanger. Loved you before, but now that you're sticking with me though my confusion, and troubles talking and bad tempers, I love you even more! *hugs* Glad to have you in my life, and yes, I'm having one of THOSE days. You can edit this as you feel the need. Lol

Author's note number TWO! Today, the world lost a good man. He made his share of mistakes, and he did some foolish things in his years, like we all did, but this chapter is dedicated to him. Rest well, Russell Means. Well, after you flash across the sky, that is.

########################

Sam listened sadly as her mother-in-law told her of the upcoming funeral arrangements. There were some people that seemed immortal, and he had been one of them. From his decision to become an actor, to his fighting for the rights of American Indians at Wounded Knee, Russell Means had made his life count.

He'd partaken in many "outrageous" affairs, from the occupation of Alcatraz, the seizing of Mayflower II, and the taking of Mount Rushmore. Enough had been taken from the people, and it was time to start taking back. Treaties had been broken, lies had been told, and blood had been shed.

"Every Indian outbreak that I have ever known has resulted from broken promises and broken treaties by the government." Buffalo Bill said that, and yet less than 100 years later, people wondered why violence was once again breaking out.

500 treaties had been made, and 500 broken by the government when they saw fit. Water rights were taken away for businesses. Some were moved to make way for "better" people. Some tribes were ignored, and left without treaties, meaning they had no land, no rights, and nowhere to go when their lands were gone.

Factories deemed "too dangerous to public health" popped up on reservations, poisoning the water, resulting in the deaths of both humans and animals. While those businesses no longer function, the proof of them remains behind fenced off areas.

Millions of dollars are owed to First Nations from the forcible leasing of their land to companies that aren't polluting, but are still in operation. The money is paid to the government, and is always lost. Somewhere, somehow.

Sam felt a deep sorrow. Who would speak for them now? Who would be the people's next warrior? Will there be another? Would there be a need for another? Or were people learning? She hoped that the need for someone like Russell Means wouldn't be, while feeling in her heart that there would always be a need for people to remember, sometimes forcibly, that one people group isn't more important than another.

There were times she'd been disappointed in him. She didn't agree with his politics on many things, and sometimes, when she'd heard of his choices, she'd simply shake her head and think that he'd spent too much time dealing with crazy people. He was acting crazy himself.

She watched with amusement, from letters and visits from her family, as Means declared the Lakota nation a free and sovereign nation once more. He claimed thousands of square miles of Montana, North Dakota, Nebraska, and Wyoming as their territory.

Some had laughed over his mockery of the United States government's treat practices, while others had looked on in fear. With good cause, they feared harsh consequences to his actions. With that in mind, the tribal leaders declared that while they appreciated his efforts, they'd not take part and end their treaties. If there would be any more treaties broken, it would be done by the Anglos. That is how it always has been. And how it should be.

If a man gives his word, then he should keep it. If he cannot keep his word, he shouldn't make a promise in the first place. Sam sighed.

Russell had promised that when he died, he'd return as lightening. He'd return as lightening and strike the White House.

With a girlish grin she couldn't quite hide, she looked out the window, wondering if she'd see his flash. Wondering if he'd still find his earthly desire so strong on the other side.

"U cintok kupepi hel." Of course, we'll be there.

"Omawaste. Wici uta inipi na tawapi mitankala." Good. The girls miss you and their sisters.

"Does Joseph have a good ribbon shirt, do you know?"

"I think he may. He was talking about taking a girl to a dance."

"He'd not told me about that."

The two women continued talking for some time, catching up on the last three days, and making plans for Sam and her nieces' journey back to their home. It was sad, knowing that it was death that was once more brining her home.

There would be celebrations recounting his life, and speeches and ceremonies. Every great warrior deserves to be remembered, and she was certain that Russell Means would be honored and remembered well.

Please pray for his family, and those he worked with and supported so much through the years. We'll miss you, Russell, and I, for one, will be watching for your lightening bolt.

"Young people and Indian people need to know that we existed in the 20th Century. We need to know who our heroes are and what we have accomplished in this century other than what Olympic athletes Jim Thorpe and Billy Mills have done." Russell Means


	94. Chapter 94

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

Note: This chapter pulls out Gibbs at his worst. We've seen glimpses of it, but not the full on "this is why I beat his head in with a golf club" Gibbs. So I'm going for it. Sorry if it offends. But it's necessary for the story.

Note: Thanks for all who have been praying for me. The long of the short is that my blood-brain barrier was affected, as in it was destroyed, so things were acting as neurotoxins, and I was struggling with daily things. I'm still struggling, and I have good days and bad, but the good are starting to be better. Now, if I can only stay out of the hospital….

############

The day had started of badly, and had ended in death. He had to break the news to an elderly couple that their son had committed suicide, and in doing so, had taken his innocent wife and their two daughters lives' when he drove over the bridge.

Financial trouble had led him to desperation, and when his plans for "freedom" failed, he lost control. Were it not for the fact that his wife had been trying to call for help, they may have never found out exactly what happened. However, McGee's ability to decode and bypass passwords aided their investigation, and the only thing the MCRT had left to do was finish up their reports.

As Director, he had the duty of informing the family of what their investigation had uncovered. As he spoke the couple, the father begged for answers as to why their son hadn't come to them. Gibbs had no answers for their questions, and he felt the burden of their sorrow as he worked now.

Gibbs moved the sander back and forth across the board he had balanced. It was strange to be alone with the silence. He sighed and turned on the small radio Sam had given him for his birthday.

_When I fall in love it will be forever  
>Or I'll never fall in love<br>In a restless world like this is  
>Love is ended before it's begun<br>And too many moonlight kisses  
>Seem to cool in the warmth of the sun<em>

_When I give my heart it will be completely  
>Or I'll never give my heart<br>And the moment I can feel that you feel that way too  
>Is when I fall in love with you.<em>

_And the moment I can feel that you feel that way too  
>Is when I fall in love with you.<em>

Nat King Cole crooned his love, as Jethro felt more depressed than he'd already felt. He looked with detachment to the board he was sanding and smoothing into a frame for Allie's bed. He missed the noise of their tiny feet running through the hall above his head, and Sam's futile requests for them to behave.

"_Uncle Jethro needs quiet, girls. He had a rough day."_ He scoffed to himself after hearing the words as clearly as if they'd actually been said.

His thoughts turned to another little girl. Kelly. She'd run back and forth in that hall, just as the other two had when she was that little. It seemed that the hall was incredibly long for someone with such short legs. She'd been gone for nearly 10 years, and yet he felt as if he was somehow being unfaithful to Shannon and their daughter.

"When I fall in love, it will be forever." He'd mouthed those words to Shannon as they danced on their first date, and again as they stood at the alter only months later. Forever.

"I did forever real well, didn't I?" Gibbs threw his sand paper across the room as he stalked over to his bottle of bourbon. "Three ex-wives, and now Sam. What the hell is wrong with me?" He raged at himself and his fickle heart as he downed three ounces of the burning liquid.

His gaze turned fierce as he glared at the pile of wood he had purchased to turn into beds for his "nieces".

"What the hell am I thinking?" He stalked across the room, kicking the boards over, watching dispassionately as one of them cracked. "I kill everything! If I stay with them, I'll kill them, too! Shannon, Kelly, DEAD! Three more…" He growled. "Marriages. DEAD! Kate, Jen, DEAD! What the hell am I thinking!"

He ranted and raged, covering every error he ever committed during his years as a sniper, to the day Kate died, and how he "should have known" Ari'd have a back-up plan.

"And what I thinking? I put my team in danger ONCE AGAIN by driving across the high plains in a blizzard! And not just anywhere, but NO! We didn't stop, even though Abby wanted to. I was SURE we'd be fine. Yeah. If it weren't for Sam, we'd have frozen in that damned car."

He took another swallow from his fast-emptying bottle, the glass having been long-forgotten. He curled his lips back as his lips burned as the alcohol dried them further.

"And what if she'd been some masochist? What if she'd been some weird serial killer hiding out in the middle of nowhere? What then? We had no weapons. No ways of protecting ourselves. She could have killed every damned one of us that first night! What was I thinking, putting my team in that much danger!"

He picked up two pieces of lumber, and "measured" them against one another. His now-alcohol addled brain knew he wasn't in the shape to be doing anything, yet the other part of his brain that was now being controlled by the amber substance, was completely convinced he was perfectly fine.

Gibbs shouted at himself as he relived the worst moments of his life. The first fight he had with his father. Shannon and Kelly's deaths. Every one of his ex-wives' "we need to talk" moments followed by the infamous "I want a divorce" moments. He raged at himself for leaving Tony when he went to Mexico, and how he'd screwed up his "vacation". He blamed himself for Jenny's death.

His mind wandered to the years before her death. She'd tried to reach out to him a few times, but he always threw her "no off the job" in her face. If he'd not done that, he could have helped her during those last few months when she'd been so sick and he'd totally missed it.

She'd died protecting him. And he'd thrown her to the wolves, even if his throwing was simply in refusing to open his eyes and look. Had he been paying attention, he'd have known Tony was undercover. It didn't matter that he'd been gone most of that time. If he could lead the team, he should have seen it.

But he didn't. He had his head up his ass. Again.

And he had it up there now, too. What was he thinking? He couldn't be a part of Sam's life. Not without ruining it. He was no good at relationships. How many more times did he have to screw up to know that? And with Sam, there were kids involved. Damn.

It had felt so good having the little ones to hold and tell stories to and to tuck them in. He missed their little messes and milk moustaches. He wiped an angry tear from his face as he picked up his cell phone and began to try dialing it. His fingers didn't seem to want to work.

"Shhhit." He slurred as he slammed it down. "Can't d-dia…" he broke off his speech with a belch. He snarled at himself. "Not drunk." Gibbs pulled his glasses from his pocket and put them on, holding his phone at arms' length. "Jus' need new gla…" another belch rang out in the basement as he began punching numbers.

"Damn bitch. Makes me love her, and all the time knows I'm a fuck up." He finally heard ringing on the other end. "Gonna fuck up the kids' lives, too. That's all I ever do. Fuck up."

#######

Sam reached over for the phone that Gibbs had plugged in and set on the stand on "his" side of their bed. She looked at the caller ID, fear clutching her heart when she saw his number. What had happened, especially for him to call at this hour?

"Jethro? What's wrong?"

"Wrong?" Jethro slurred, and Sam's eyes narrowed. "What th' hell makesh you think shom'tin'sh wrong?" He glared at the stairs, wishing he had a bathroom close by. He needed to relieve his bladder, and those steps were moving. Damn bitch. She probably had something to do with it.

"You're calling me at three in the morning, Jethro. You sound like you're either very tired, or very drunk." Sam spoke softly, hoping to not arouse the temper he was famous for around the Navy Yard.

"I been drinkin', but I ain't drunk!" He roared in reply, as Sam closed her eyes. She had no idea what had brought it on, but he was pissing her off. Her day hadn't been easy, either. The girls had been upset all day that "Ate" was gone. She'd finally fallen asleep herself, missing the warmth of his body next to hers.

"How much have you had to drink?"

"I don't know." His voice was like ice. "But I know I'm sober enough to know I'm no good for you, and that you're just leading me on. Yeah. You know what you're doing. You got your own house now. You don't need me. I don't need you. And I don't need your kids, either. No, ma'am. I don't need to fuck anybody else up! I got my own problems, Sam! How dare you…"

"HOW DARE I?" Sam shot out of bed, holding the phone close to her ear as she stormed into the ensuite bathroom. If she ran the water in the shower, there was a good chance the girls wouldn't hear them arguing. They'd woken up often enough to anger.

"Yeah! How dare you! You made me care about you. Take you in. Give a shit! Well, you're fine on your own now! So go!"

"Where the hell is this coming from?"

"You don't understand!" His voice came through in sobs now. "No one understands. Don't you get it?"

"NO! What doesn't anyone understand? If you don't tell me, I can't understand!" Sam fought against the urge to shout back. One thing she knew from her father was to never fight with a drunk man.

"I kill everything! I'm no good! I can't…" He broke off, seeming to choke on his words.

"Gibbs? Talk to me."

"Fuck you!" He finally managed to snarl through heavy breaths. "You don't understand."

"I can't, Jethro, unless you tell me what I'm not understanding. Teach me."

"I kill everything, Sam." His voice was suddenly devoid of life. "My mother, Shannon, Kelly, Kate, Jen, countless targets when I was a sniper. They all died because of me, Sam."

"Why are they all your fault?"

"Cuz I didn't protect them. I was there, but I…"

"Honey, you were little when your mom died."

"Doesn't matter." He let out a groan as he sat on the stairs, unable to walk up them.

"Yes, it does, Jethro." Sam paced back and forth in the bathroom, wishing she could wrap her arms around him. "You have no control over illness. You didn't then, and you don't now. And as for your targets, they were your job, Jethro. You have worked, your entire life, to keep the world safe. The people you had orders to kill? They would have killed other people, Jethro. That's not your fault. You followed orders. You didn't just go around killing."

She knew he was still listening, for she could hear his breaths, punctuated by the occasional belch.

"But they still died, Sam."

"Yes, they did. And they died before they hurt someone who was innocent."

"But I killed them, Sam." He wiped a tear from his cheek. "I killed them. I'm just as bad to their governments as they were to ours."

"That's how the game goes, Jethro. That's the job you took. And you've done your best your whole life."

"For what? I can't keep a marriage together. I can't take care of my own."

"What are you thinking about?" Sam rolled her eyes. She was past tired of dealing with his ex-wives, and she'd never met any of them.

"That day you found us. Abby and Ducky wanted to stop at a hotel. I said no. If you hadn't found us, we'd have all died. And it would have been my fault."

"But you didn't die. Think of it as fate."

"There's no such thing."

"Why do you think that?"

Silence hung in the air as Gibbs studied his hands. Then he looked up to the light, and decided that was a bad idea.

"I gotta hit the head."

"Way to change the subject, Gibbs."  
>"Thanks." He snickered. "Really, though. I gotta piss. Bad. And I'm not sure I can make the stairs." His words were slurring more as he progressed. "Shoulda put a bigger drain down here."<p>

"Jethro, let me call Tony. He can help you get up the stairs."

"Don't you call my son!" Gibbs switched back to his angry mode. "He's in bed. Or should be. Don't need drivin' over here to carry my ass upstairs. I can do it!" He sounded so much like a petulant child that Sam smiled for a moment.

"I'm gonna call Tony, so he can come help you up the stairs. That's all. Just to make sure you're safe."

"I can do it!" Gibbs stood, and Sam could hear him grumble under his breath. A crash followed an obviously failed attempt to get on the first step, and Sam swore. She didn't want to hang up with him, but she needed to if she were to call Tony.

"I'm gonna go, Jethro. I'll call you right back, ok?"

"Whatever." Gibbs' voice was barely reaching her ears, and she wondered if he was talking to her now, or if he'd started talking to the steps.

Sam pressed "talk" once more, ending her call with Gibbs, only to dial Tony's number as quickly as her fingers would work.

"DiNozzo." Tony's voice was understandably groggy.

"Tony? I need you to go check on Jethro." Sam finally let the panic start to come through her voice. "He's drunk, and isn't making much sense. Please? He's in his basement, and can't get up the stairs."

"Shit." Tony rolled over, waking Abby in the process.

"What's up?"

"I gotta go check on Gibbs. Sam's on the phone, and is worried."

"Huh?" Abby looked at the clock as Tony handed the phone to her. He pulled his trousers up, and motioned for her to find out for herself.

"What's going on, Sam?"

"Gibbs is drunk. I'm worried about him. He's so…"

"Gibbs? Drunk?"

"Yeah. He called me, shouting at me. I don't know how much he's had to drink, but he's had a lot."

"Tony, wait." Abby stood, the phone held in her shoulder as she started to dress. "I'm going with you."

"No, you stay here. Call Ducky. Don't think both of us showing up would be good. I'll let you know how he is." Tony pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Love you. I'll call as soon as I can."

########

Tony walked into his boss's house, not knowing exactly what to expect. He'd seen Gibbs drink, and knew he could turn into a true bastard when he was nearly drunk. But to have him completely drunk was a new experience. He hated new experiences at four in the morning.

The upstairs was silent, as was the main floor. There weren't even any lights turned on, save for the lone bulb that lit the basement. He stepped quietly, knowing he'd rather not alert a man who could easily drop him with any number of weapons that were hidden in the house. Drunk or sober, Gibbs could be scary.

Fear quickly replaced disbelief as he heard a horribly off-key voice warble through the first verse and chorus of "My Way" as soon as he opened the basement door. His boss couldn't sing when he was sober, and his drunken attempt added a new level of torture to Tony's ears.

He quietly stepped down on the first step, looking down into the now-disastrous basement. Tony's first reaction was relief. His second was anger. His third was to call Ducky. He figured he'd better act on that one first. No matter how pissed he was, letting Gibbs go through possible alcohol poisoning without help would be like…well, like letting a drunk man have a power saw. Tony was momentarily glad Gibbs never used the things.

*Tony talks to Ducky*

"You sure do things your way, Boss." Tony's voice held venom. "What the hell are you thinking?"

"Why are you here? Who called you!"

"Santa Clause. Now what the hell are you doing?"

"Living my life! Now get the hell out!" Tony came and stood toe to toe with Gibbs.

"Living your life. That's great. Just fucking great." His voice turned colder than it was, and Gibbs' eyes widened. He'd never expected Tony to stand up to him like this. He'd always backed down before. "You forget that you have a family now? A family who gives a damn about you? Or are they just gonna be thrown aside like your exes?"

"What the hell do you know?" Gibbs shouted back at him.

"I know that I got a call from Sam! She's worried sick about you! Says your drunk, talking nonsense, and wanted me to check on your sorry ass!"

"I told her to leave me the hell alone!"

"Why?" Tony's voice quieted.

"Cuz I kill everything, DiNozzo."

"Meaning…"

"Shannon and Kelly. Kate. All of my exes. Jen." Gibbs shrugged. "If I get any closer to them, they're gonna die, Tony."

"Got news for ya, Boss. You're as close as anyone can get to them." Tony's eyes burned with fire as he brought his boss' face to meet his. "Don't you dare walk away from them, Gibbs. Don't you dare. Their father walked away from them, their mother died, and now Acheflow came back with Sam after the funeral because she misses her sisters. She thinks you hung the moon, Gibbs. Don't pull this shit with them."

"What do you know about family, DiNozzo?" Gibbs snorted, intending to cut deep with his insult.

"I know enough to know what it's like to be a kid with a deadbeat, drunken dad who doesn't think of anyone but himself." Tony's voice was barely a whisper, yet it cut through Gibbs.

Tony watched as the older man visibly deflated. His shoulders slumped, his brow furrowed, and then the tears came. They weren't flowing, but they stood in the corners of his eyes, as though daring the man to forbid them to fall.

"How do I fix it? How do I stop hurting everyone? How do…"

"You pull yourself together, Boss." Tony put his arm under Jethro's shoulders. "Come on, let's get you upstairs. Ducky's on his way over."

"Don't need Duck."

"Yeah, ya do." Tony spoke patiently, as if to a child. "Alcohol poisoning isn't a nice thing."

"Didn't drink that much."

"No? Well, I think maybe ya did." Tony wasn't looking forward to cleaning up the mess that Gibbs had made. Two bottles of bourbon had been emptied, and from what he could tell, the older man had pissed in the drain. And from the look of it, on his leg, as well.

###################

Gibbs woke with a groan. He'd not had many hangovers in his life, and this was the reason he'd usually limited his drinking. At least he wasn't feeling nauseous. As he sat up, he realized that thought came too soon. He stumbled through his kitchen to the bathroom, cursing himself for letting that case get to him so much.

He ran into the door and swore. The next, his toe met a chair, and he shouted, hopping for a step before he continued his comically rushed path to the bathroom. Once there, he slammed the door, then groaned as the noise assaulted his already aching head.

His words of complaint were lost in a rush of the meager contents of his stomach as it poured forth. What had he done last night? Yes, he'd been upset, but how much had he actually drank?

Tony rolled over as he heard the first thump downstairs and groaned. This wasn't going to be a fun morning. And the worst part was, was that he didn't feel bad for the bastard. He deserved the headache. Along with anything else he had to suffer through.

Tony listened for the tell-tale sounds of Gibbs finally being done in the bathroom, and headed downstairs. The least he could do would be to get a pot of coffee and at least a piece of toast down his throat. After that, he was on his own. Unless there was a major apology headed his way, he was done trying to appease the man.

When Gibbs emerged after his shower, it was to the smell of coffee and toast. His stomach churned a bit at the odor, but he figured he may as well face whoever was there, anyway. He'd remembered Tony being down in the basement, and the two of them arguing, but he couldn't think of what.

"You're still here?" Jethro squinted into the brightly lit kitchen.

"I can leave. Pardon me for wanting to make sure you were ok."

"No, don't." Gibbs glared at Tony. "What the hell is your problem?"

"My problem?" Tony slammed a coffee cup down on the counter next to Gibbs. "My problem? I don't have a problem, other than thinking our friendship meant something."

"Where the hell is this coming from?"

"It's coming from getting a call from Sam at two this morning. She's worried sick. Remember calling her?" Gibbs shook his head, stopped, and then shrugged. He remembered dialing her number.

"Well, ya did, Boss. Ya called her at two in the morning and broke it off with her. Remember that? I came over here because she was so worried about you. And you pissed all over your basement. Bet ya don't remember that, either." Gibbs' eyes widened in shock. "Don't worry. I cleaned it up." He took a breath before continuing.

"And Ducky's pissed as hell, cuz you know better than to drink like that. When he got here, you were in the process of firing my ass. If that still stands, let me know, and I'm out of your hair."

Gibbs stood in shocked silence, not knowing what to say.

"Gonna pull your usual silent stunt? Fine. You'll have my resignation on your desk by Monday morning."

"Wait." Gibbs finally found his voice, and he sounded completely confused. "Why was I firing you? You're the best damned agent I have."

"Last night, you said I was worthless." Tony narrowed his eyes. "I had the balls to call you on your shit with Sam, and you got mad."

"What did I do to Sam?" Tony scoffed.

"Why don't you call her? I'm sure she'll be happy to tell you."

Gibbs dug his phone from his pocket and dialed her number, feeling no small amount of trepidation. He was beginning to remember more and more of the night before as the coffee sank in. He only hoped his memory was faulty.

Four rings later, the line picked up, only to disconnect before anyone said a single word.

"She hung up on me." Gibbs glared at his phone.

"Can't say that I blame her." Tony let out a sigh. "So, am I still fired?"


	95. Chapter 95

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar, my fabulous beta.

Note: This all has a purpose. I'm sorry if it seems to be going off on some weird tangent. Let's face it, this whole story is one weird tangent. I promise, though, that it will all come together in the end.

#####################

Amy was furious. Her uncle, Aunt Arleen's husband, Phil, had called her a whole slew of names for wearing earrings to school. Not only that, but she put a barrette in her hair to keep it out of her face. The man was fanatical even according to the rest of his church. Why he even had a part in her life was beyond her understanding. He came to visit her grandparents, but why he needed to talk to her was…stupid. He was stupid.

She'd talked to Pastor Dave, and he helped her look up verses for obeying elders, as well as elders respecting children. She'd then returned home feeling better and freer than she had since her mom died and An' Sam had left. Her grandparents weren't bad, but those two religious nuts were making life unbearable.

To make her life even worse, Acheflow had gone to live with An' Sam, and Doris and John Quincy were in St. Pierre for the week, leaving her stuck with _them._

Tonight when he began his tirade, Amy pulled the paper from her pocket and began reading it to him, citing chapter and verse. When his hand flew and connected with her cheek, she stopped talking. His rant grew worse, and she listened horrified as he compared her to her father.

She knew she was rebellious, but she'd not realized she was that bad. Her mind reeled as accusation after accusation was flung at her.

"Only whores wear jewelry." His voice was like iron. "We talked about that when you came to live here. No worldly adornment that detracts from what God created is permitted in this house." He towered over her. "You are a slut, a worthless waste of what God made you to be. You can't even follow rules or keep your body pure." His hand flew again, this time blackening her eye.

"I'm staying here for a week, you asshole!" Tears ran down her cheeks. "I'm not a worthless slut!" He scoffed and shoved her into her room, locking the door.

It was Friday night, and when she asked to come down to dinner, she was informed that an evening of fasting and prayer would do her spirit good. He didn't care that she'd not eaten lunch. She lay in her room, staring at walls and wishing she could talk to her mom.

Her door finally creaked open, and her aunt stepped in. The woman carried a biscuit and a glass of water. _How kind._

"You know he's wrong." Amy seethed from where she sat.

"Can you honestly tell me that you wear those short skirts so no one will look at you? You're wearing makeup, and you've snuck out two nights this week. If you deny it, you're a liar." Arleen sneered at her niece. "You're just as bad as your mother and father. You need discipline, not _understanding_ like that Sam is so convinced of. You've been spared the rod far too much."

"He's got you brainwashed!" Her aunt set Amy's "dinner" on her dresser.

"I'll be back in the morning with your day's allotment of food. You may leave to use the bathroom once tonight and twice tomorrow." Her aunt sighed. "It is harsh, but hopefully, this severity will help purge you of the evil within. After all," her eyes met Amy's, "Rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft."

############################################

By Saturday night, Amy was so hungry her stomach hurt, and she had to use the bathroom, but she was afraid to go into the rest of the house. So she did what any teen would do. She opened her window and leapt into the closest tree. She shimmied down its branches, and when she was sure he wasn't paying attention, she ran to a friend's house.

"What happened to your eye?" Amy burst into tears and relayed the conversation with her uncle. Her stomach growled loudly, so Lisa fixed her a sandwich. As Amy ate, her friend called Darrin.

They'd only been out on two "real" dates, but they'd flirted and made out in the hallways at school, along with initiating the backseat of his dad's car on several occasions. He was there within the hour, his father's car and fifty dollars to help take Amy's mind off of her troubles. They went to a movie, where he teased her for eating so much, and then to the fair, where she teased him for losing so much.

By the time they made it back to their car, they'd agreed to drive over to a hotel. He'd picked up fake ID's from one of his friends they'd met up with, and armed with those, they checked into the honeymoon suite of the local flea-pit.

######################################

Another week found her and Darrin arguing and breaking up. Waiting in the wings was Tyler, who had seen and heard more than his fair share of porn online. He talked her into having a threesome, and that led to her having the belief that sex was what made her popular. After all, the boys liked her, the pretty girls took her into their inner-circle and showed her how to do her hair and make-up. This was what life was supposed to be. This was fun, and the best part, was that it felt amazing to be popular, and the feelings when she was with a boy were…phenomenal.

#################################

"Hey, Amy!" Carla came jogging up to her. "We're going to join volleyball this semester. Do you want to try out with us?"

"Sure!" The teen loved to be included in everything her friends were doing.

"Great! Tryouts are after school." Carla shrugged then. "It's $80.00 for our uniforms, is the only problem. Do you think your grandparents will have that?"

"Oh, sure." Amy flipped her hair. "I'll just ask my aunt. She'll send the money, no problem." The girls giggled as they headed down the hall.

Five hours later, Amy was thrilled to find herself on the school's volleyball team. She called her grandparents to let them know she was going for pizza with the team, and they asked if she had enough money.

"The team's buying, Grandpa. Don't worry, it's covered."

Unknown to Doris and John Quincy, the girls skipped the pizza outing, and were with their boyfriends, celebrating in their own way.

########################

Two weeks later, Amy's world came crashing down.

She'd had her physical for volleyball, and the exams had been humiliating. Her grandmother was in the room as the doctor performed her full exam, commenting on how it was obvious that she'd been sexually active. Amy had wanted to sink into the floor.

"Given your activity, we're going to do a pregnancy test." Dr. Hargrove didn't bat an eye. "And I need to stress to you that sexual activity has a high risk of disease with it. You have used protection, haven't you?" Amy bit her lip.

"Not all the time. Sometimes, I forgot."

"How many partners have you had?" Doris' eyebrow quirked, and Amy visibly shirked from answering.

"I'm sorry, but I need to ask. I'm going to order blood-draws to check for diseases, and if you've had more than one partner, we may need to have them come in for antibiotics."

"There's been about eight." Amy's face turned red as tears streamed down her cheeks. Doris stalked from the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

The older woman ran her hands down her face, holding in her tears until they knew the worst. How had this happened right under their noses? Yes, Arleen and Phil were too strict, and Mary had asked that the girls not go to them at all, but perhaps this wouldn't have happened with them. Doris suddenly felt her 72 years.

###############

Tony pounded down the stairs after his shower, not caring if his extra noise was bothering Gibbs' head. He almost hoped it did.

"See ya at work, Boss. Some of us need to be responsible adults and, you know, show up for work." Gibbs glared at him. "Left my hangover cure on the counter. Got an hour before you're late." Tony clucked his tongue as he jogged out the door.

Jethro grimaced moments before he held his breath and chugged the entire nasty jar of putrescence. No wonder it cured hangovers. Gibbs felt his stomach burning away everything left from the past month. It was amazing that Tony was alive after having used that crap more than once.

Gibbs plodded up the stairs to hit the shower, hoping like hell that his headache would pass once he hit the spray.

###############

Sam sat curled on the couch with a book, while the two smallest ones were in bed. Acheflow was sitting at the table, doing some "schoolwork" that her last teacher had sent for her, so that she'd not fall too far behind during the move. Sam had decided that she'd start her in the new school on Monday, rather than having her begin part way through the week.

Yes, it caused a bit of an issue with absences, but it was understandable considering all of the circumstances. To help Acheflow get ready for her new school, the family had begun speaking English almost all of the time at home. In her old school, if she forgot, it didn't really matter. A gentle reminder from her teacher, and she'd revert to English once again. Sam didn't want to risk her being made fun of by her new classmates. Moving was hard enough, and she wanted her girls to fit in as best they could.

_Sam's door creaked open, and Acheflow stepped softly across the floor._

"_Tunwin Sam?"_

"_Speak English, Sweetie." Sam patted the mattress beside her. "Can't sleep?"_

"_Hiya. Um, no." The little girl snuggled in, searching for comfort. "Was that Leski Gibbs?"_

"_Yes, it was." Sam waited, not sure if she should say anything about the conversation._

"_He's mad, isn't he?" Sam sighed deeply._

"_Yes. He thinks he's mad at me, but he's really mad at himself."_

"_Like Vernon with Mama?"_

"_He's your father, Acheflow. He may not have been a good man, but he deserves respect."_

"_That's not what Amy says."_

"_Really?" Sam chuckled. She wondered if she dared ask what else Amy was saying. That girl had attitude to spare. What she lacked in height, she made up for in presence. "What else does Amy say?"_

"_That Grandpa and Grandma are old, and she uses a lot of bad words now."_

"_Oh? What bad words does she use?"_

"_Ones that Daddy used to use. Mommy'd get mad." Acheflow shrugged. "Bitch, fuck, cunt…" Sam cut her off._

"_Ok, I see. Yes, those are bad words, and if you ever use them again, I'll soap your mouth."_

"_Ew. Mommy did that to Amy once. She got the runs. Mommy said it was because she swallowed the soap."_

"_Sounds like Amy's being pretty bad, huh?"_

"_Yeah." Acheflow yawned. "She's not nice anymore. She's mean."_

"_How is she mean?"_

"_She tells me that she'll hit me if I tell."_

"_Tell about what?"_

_Acheflow stayed quiet, and Sam thought the girl had perhaps fallen asleep. Acheflow drew in a deep breath and scrunched into as tight of a ball as she could, and Sam could feel the tension radiating from her. Sam put an arm around her, stroking her back gently._

"_What, Sweetie?"_

"_The boys."_

"_What about the boys?"_

"_The ones she sneaks into the house." Sam waited, knowing her niece was piecing her thoughts together. "They play yucky games. With their clothes off."_

_Sam fought to keep her voice calm as she began asking her questions._

"_How does she sneak boys in?"_

"_The window. She opens it up, and when then closes it."_

"_Is it always the same boy?"_

"_No. She has a lot of boys come play." Sam sighed._

"_And I don't like it. They make weird noises. Like Mommy and Daddy used to."_

"_They keep you awake, huh?"_

"_Yes. I don't like it." Acheflow shuddered. "They touch each other all over, and then make noises, the boys leave, and she tells me that if I tell, she'll hit me."_

That conversation ran circles in Sam's head as she pretended to read. She'd need to let Doris and John Quincy know what their headstrong granddaughter was pulling. What's more, she needed to move up her time-table for getting Amy here. With a nearly savage thrill, Sam was pleased once more that no one could sneak onto her property. There were advantages to being overly defensive.

Sam sighed, realizing she'd read the same page four times now. Oh, well, at least Acheflow hadn't noticed. The little girl had noticed far too much, already. She'd heard Sam's voice when she and Gibbs were arguing, and that wasn't good. The poor child had seen and heard enough of hate already; she didn't need any more.

Giving up on trying to read, she put down her book and began to wonder in earnest of what to do with Amy and Gibbs. Only a month ago, Amy had been going out on her first date, and now she was living up to her suspected reputation. And Gibbs, who knew what was going on in his head, but he'd better…

Tiny feet racing down the hall above her head cut her thoughts short.

#############

"What's with the bossman?" Abby bounced on her toes as Tony entered her lab, Caff-Pow in hand.

"He's…" Tony stopped himself, knowing that if he said exactly what was on his mind, that his excitable fiancé would have their boss duct-taped to his desk as she read him the riot act.

"He's what?" Abby stood with her hands on her hips. "You were gone all night, and Sam was all upset. She was in tears, Tony, and you know how much it takes to make _her_ cry."

"He was singing "My Way" when I got there, Abby." Tony sighed as he ran his hands through his hair. "He'd screwed up the bed he was working on. I don't know which of the girls it was for, but he trashed it." Abby gasped. Gibbs had been working on those beds for weeks. "He'd pissed in the drain, and missed."

"He did WHAT?"

"He pissed on the floor, hit his own damned leg, and what he said to Sam…" Tony huffed in disgust.

"What did he say to her? Did he tell you?"

"Oh, yeah, he told me." Tony's eyes narrowed. "As he was firing me for having the nerve to show up."

"He fired you?"

"Yeah, don't worry, he rehired me this morning."

Abby was seething, and Tony hoped he could calm his Gothic Princess down a bit before she bit the head off of a proverbial bat. He held his hand up to stop her tirade, only to have her smack his hand down. Too late, she was about to explode, and to stop her would be near-suicide.

"_What did he say to her, Anthony DiNozzo?"_ Abby's voice was that of a silent hurricane. Tony's first thought was one of "he deserves it", followed quickly by, "stay alive at all costs."

"He broke it off with her." Tony shrank as Abby's hand came out, but instead of hitting him, she pointed her finger angrily at him.

"He didn't!"

"He did." Tony held his hands up. "I think he regrets it now, and believe me, I laid into him already, and so did Ducky." He shrugged. "Well, Ducky from more of a medical standpoint, but yes, I let him have it already."

"Not well enough, apparently." Abby's eyes narrowed. "If you did, he'd have left you fired." She squared her shoulders, and Tony felt like running for his life. "What time is he coming in?"

"He was getting ready when I left."

"Good. When he gets in, I want to see him."

"He's not going to come down here."

"If he refuses, then I'm going up to his office." Abby was nearly shouting by now. "How dare he do this? Doesn't he realize how precarious the girls' lives are? They've already been abandoned by one parent, the other has passed, they've been adopted, moved across the country, and he had the nerve to ingrain himself in their lives, only to pull this crap?" Abby narrowed her eyes once again. "Not on my watch, he's not gonna do this. No, sir. This is enough of his emotional constipation."


	96. Chapter 96

Disclaimer: For the umpteenth time, I don't own NCIS. Now, my butt is covered. Lol

Author's note: Thanks to my amazing beta, Headbanger Rockstar. I literally couldn't keep writing without her, and also with the support of my good friend, lbinkeybella. Thanks, ladies!

Second Author's note: Due to brain fry (literally), there are some plot holes. Acheflow came to live with Sam after the funeral mentioned a couple of chapters back. I totally forgot to write that. Please bear with me as I struggle to get back to where I was. Or where I'm going. Or something.

#######

Gibbs swore as he waited for Sam to pick up her phone. He'd decided to call her cell phone, just in case one of the girls answered the house phone. There was no way he wanted to make the situation any more awkward by having her tell one of the little ones to hang up on him.

Six rings later, he got her voice mail once again. The last four times, he'd not left messages. He figured he'd better this time. After all, he needed some excuse for calling her five times in less than an hour when she was obviously ignoring him.

Her greeting chirruped in his ear as he grabbed his keys from the table. A last glance at the clock showed him that he was going to be late by about 10 minutes if he didn't drive like Ziva. _Great. A ticket is just what I need to make my day _even _better._

"Hey, Sam, it's Gibbs." He rolled his eyes at himself. Of course she'd know who it was. "Um, I wanted to tell you that, I, uh," Jethro took a deep breath and manned up. "I screwed up last night, Sam. I'm sorry. I drank too much, I don't remember exactly what I said, but I know it was bad. Tony already chewed my ass this morning, and I know I've got a lot of making up to do, and honestly, I'm not even sure of where to start." He let out another sigh as he turned the key in the ignition. "Do I even have a chance? Or did I screw up that bad? Call me, please. I know I don't have the right to say it, but Sam, I really do love you." He clicked his phone closed as he peeled out of his driveway, needing to make up another two minutes on the road.

###################

Sam listened to the message, and decided to keep it rather than delete it. He sounded sincere enough. She hoped he was, rather than just pulling the "I hit you today, I'll be nice tomorrow so I can hit you again" routine her father and Vernon had been so good at. She wiped a tear from her cheek as Allie came wandering in.

"Wrong?" The little girl pointed to her aunt's cheek.

"Ate is being," she stopped herself before she said a bad word that she'd not want them repeating later, "mean. So we're not going to talk to him for a few days, ok?"

Allie's face crumpled, and she began to weep out her sorrow, complete with an almost comical gnashing of her tiny teeth. Sam held her and rocked back and forth, shushing as she rocked, cursing Leroy Jethro Gibbs once more in her head. He was in so much trouble when she got ahold of him. And a phone conversation wasn't going to be enough.

Once Allie was calmed enough to sit on the couch next to her, Sam decided that another conversation couldn't be put off. A look at the clock confirmed that Amy would be off to school already, so she'd be able to talk with Doris and John Quincy without the teen arguing with every word spoken. She'd been a little more combative and temperamental in the last few conversations, but Sam had put it down to moving to the Jr. class in school, her mom's death, and her dad leaving them. She was sad to learn that it was far more than that.

With Allie curled into her side, Sam dialed her in-laws, not looking forward to having to tell them what she'd learned from Acheflow only the night before. As if sensing what was going on, Acheflow came in, carrying Alex, and cuddled into her other side.

Four rings later, John Quincy answered the phone.

"Ya'hay, Ate."

"Ya'hay, Sam." John Quincy sounded old for the first time in his life. Yes, his voice had aged with him, but he'd always had energy and life in his voice. Today, there was none.

As Sam heard the news from John Quincy and Doris about Amy's pregnancy and the whole mess of her sleeping around and sneaking about, Amy was confiding in her friend Carla.

"You're _what?_ Carla took a step back, suddenly seeming repulsed by her friend.

"I'm pregnant." Amy wiped a tear from her eyes.

"You're supposed to use condoms." Carla's eyes narrowed. "You didn't, did you? You're sick with something, aren't you?" She backed off farther.

"No, I'm not sick with anything." Amy crossed her arms over her stomach. "I'm just pregnant."

"Dirty ho."

"Hey, you have sex, too!" Amy was shocked at her friends' response.

"Yeah, but I'm smart enough to not get pregnant or get some STD."

"I don't _have_ an STD, Carla." Her former friend scoffed and walked away, leaving Amy feeling more alone than she'd ever felt before.

##########################

Gibbs nearly shuddered as the elevator opened. Abby stood within, her face a mask of pure malice. Not even with Michal Mawer had she looked so angry. He braced himself and entered her temporary lair.

"What were you thinking, Gibbs?" She poked a finger into his chest.

"I'm thinking that we're at work, and we're not going to discuss this right now."

Abby reached out and slapped the emergency brake on the board, as he had done so many times before.

"Oh, no, Mister. Director or not, you overstepped a line, Gibbs." His eyebrow quirked.

"I know I did, but not with you."

"When your drunken stupidity requires my fiancé to be dragged from our bed in the middle of the night to go help you get out of your basement, and I'm on the phone with _your_ girlfriend, if she'll even have you anymore," Gibbs winced at her words, "Then it most certainly _does_ concern me."

"Alright, Abby, just say it." Abby's eyes narrowed.

"Do you think you can just get drunk and ruin people's lives, and then "just say it, Abby", and make it all ok? What about those girls? What about Sam? Hasn't she been through enough? She was upset, Gibbs. _Really_ upset. Like, crying for an hour, trying to figure out what she'd done to piss you off, upset. And she's sick of your exes!" Gibbs scoffed.

"She's never _met_ any of my exes!"

"No, she hasn't. But you throw them in her face all the time."

"Throw them in her face? How?"

"You talk about how you fail in relationships all the time, Gibbs." Abby looked at him like he was dumb. "She doesn't mind Shannon. In fact, she'd like to know more about her. But you keep…"

"Talking about my failures, I get it." His eyes were stormy.

"I'm not so sure you do." She poked him in the chest again.

"You have, in _my_ hearing, told her she was as annoying as Stephanie about decorating. You've told her she tries to change you more than Diane. When the hell has she ever tried to change you? Yes! She asked you to not swear in front of the girls. Holy bananas, Gibbs! Are you really that crazy?"

Gibbs ran his hands down his face.

"I've got a headache, Abbs, and I know I screwed up." He met her eyes. "What more do you want?"

"I want you to make it right with her! Not just a "I'm a bastard" and move on. She deserves more than that, Gibbs, and you know it." He nodded. "She's the one, Gibbs. You know it, and you've messed it up." Abby's voice hardened again as she flipped the elevator back on. "Fix it, _Director_."

####################

Joseph looked down at his cell, the unfamiliar number making his stomach twist. He didn't like unknown phone numbers anymore. They'd come to mean bad things for the young man.

"Hello?"

"Joseph?" Amy's voice cracked.

"What's wrong?" He sat up straighter at the desk he was studying at.

"I need you to get me. Please, can you come get me?"

"Where's Grandpa and Grandma?"

"They're mad at me. Please, I need you to come get me." Joseph ran down the list of things that could possibly anger his grandparents, and came up blank. He doubted she'd broken any major social rules, and she'd never been one to get into trouble. Must be teenage troubles. He'd had plenty of his own.

"I'll be there in an hour. You still in school?"

"No." Amy started to cry. "I skipped out after…" She started to cry harder.

"Where are you?"

"I'm in the café."

"I'll meet you there."

He'd finished his last class for the day, and he thanked the gods it was his short day as he raced to his truck. He had no idea just how bad things had gotten, but it seemed his strong, unflappable little sister had finally found her breaking point. At least she'd called. He just hoped he could comfort her in some way.

His truck ate the miles, yet the trip seemed to take forever. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he pulled into the small diner where Amy sat inside.

"What's up?"

Joseph slid into the booth opposite of his sister. She shrugged, toying with the coffee cup before her. They were silent for a few minutes, Joseph wondering what was going on, and Amy wondering how to begin.

"Ever wonder what life would be like if Mom and Dad were still here? I mean, if Mom hadn't died, and if Dad didn't leave us?"

"I wonder what life would be like if Dad didn't drink, cheat on Mom, and held a job anytime in the last ten years."

"You hate him, don't you?"

"Not hate." Joseph shook his head. "I'm not willing to give him that much space in my life. I just get annoyed when I think of him."

"I get mad when I think of either of them."

"Mom didn't mean to die, you know that, right?"

"I know." Amy sighed. "But she did anyway, didn't she?"

"Yeah." Joseph nodded to the waitress who had come over with a pot of coffee. She filled his cup as he watched the brown liquid pour into his mug. He asked for a hamburger, and Amy seconded his request. He stirred a bit of cream and sugar into his coffee.

"Sometimes things happen that we have no control over. The only thing we can control is ourselves when it's all said and done."

"I'm not sure I've done a good job of controlling myself." Amy wiped away tears which were now freely flowing.

"Yeah? What's going on?"

"I met this boy." Amy sniffled. "He was great. His name's Darrin, and his dad's the BIA agent."

"You date him? I heard you went out to a couple of dances and a date or two."

"Yeah." Amy nodded, and Joseph's gut twisted. "He was really nice, Joseph. He…"

"He what?"

"He told me how pretty I was, and he introduced me to the popular girls. For the first time in my life, I'm popular."

"So what's the problem?"

Joseph watched as Amy toyed with her silverware, and then her napkin. She stirred her coffee. And took a sip of water.

"Oh, this is so embarrassing." Joseph smirked.

"More embarrassing than when your slip fell off in the fifth grade?"

"Yes." Amy rolled her eyes, but she chuckled at the memory.

"Well, embarrassing things aren't so bad when they're out in the open, is what I've found. Mom taught me that. So why don't you just say it? Sort of like ripping off a band-aid."

"I had sex with him, and then we broke up, and I snuck out with a bunch of other boys, and now I'm pregnant, and I don't know who the father is." Amy spoke so fast, that his brain struggled to catch up with her words. When he caught up, he choked on his drink.

"What?" He rasped. Amy's tears doubled.

"I've been like Dad, Joseph." She was sobbing, so he moved to her side of the booth, sliding his arm around her.

"Hey. So you've made mistakes. That doesn't mean you've been like Dad."

"Uncle Ph…"

"He's an asshole. You know that." Amy nodded. "How about you start at the beginning, ok?"

Amy began to tell her story.

"It felt good to have the attention of the boys and popular girls, Joseph. I was in, after being out my whole life."

"Yeah, I know that feeling." Joseph nodded as he stroked her shoulder a bit. "Fitting in is hard."

"When Darrin and I broke up, another boy asked me out almost immediately." Amy sighed. "And I thought that sex was what was supposed to just happen when you dated someone."

"We had a bad example with Dad. He cheated on Mom all the time."

"I know. But Mom never…"

"No, she didn't. And lots of other people don't sleep around, but let's face it; you've had a bunch of bad examples. Dad and his friends aren't exactly upstanding members of the community."

"But you turned out different."

"Yeah, and the little girls will turn out differently yet. We all handle things different, Amy. The question is what you're going to do now."

"I don't know." She shrugged. "Do you think I should get an abortion? Just make it all go away?"

"No." Joseph spoke slowly. He wasn't sure of where he stood. He agreed that women have the right to choose, but after watching one of his friends…he decided to tell Amy what his friend had been through.

"You know Tommy? My roommate?" Amy nodded. "Well, his girlfriend got pregnant, and they decided on an abortion." Joseph sighed. "That was three months ago. She's having nightmares now, of her baby coming back and blaming her for her choice. She's not dealing well with it, and even though she's in counseling, she's suicidal."

Amy looked at him weird. She'd never heard of anyone having _that_ reaction. It was just tissue, like they taught in health class.

"Why's she like that? She didn't kill anything."

"Well, you see, she's not so sure of that now. And I don't want you to make the same mistake. It's hard watching her go through this." Joseph hugged her tightly. "And I can't imagine you having to do it."

"Yeah, but can you imagine me pregnant?"

"No." Joseph sighed. "Have you talked to Grandpa and Grandma about it? What did they say?"

"Grandma's furious, and Grandpa won't even look at me. It's like I'm cursed."

"Well, Grandpa's really traditional, and he thinks Dad's probably dead."

"Great. So I've been infected with his evil?"

"Possibly." Joseph shrugged. "I'm not sure that those old traditions are real. Actually, I'm pretty sure they're not. But there's some sort of truth to them."

"So one of us was gonna turn bad, no matter what, because of our parents?"

"Maybe. I think it has more to do with not being taught healthy ways of dealing with life."

"Sounds like you're saying I'm crazy."

"No, not crazy. Just, maybe, confused."

"That's no lie. I'm confused as shit. Those girls? I was one of them. I fit in. And I liked it. And then, this morning, when I told Carla, who I _thought_ was my best friend, and she turned on me."

"What did she do?"

"She starting saying that I have a sexually transmitted disease. She got pretty loud."

"Hate asking, but do you?" Amy glared at him.

"No." Joseph quirked an eyebrow at her. "Yes, I'm sure. Grandma made the doctor do all of these tests. I think I got tested for _everything_."

"She was just being thorough, Ames."

"It was still embarrassing."

"Would you rather be wondering right now if you weren't sure?"

"No." Amy sighed heavily, lifting her mug for the waitress to refill her cup when she brought their lunches.

"Make it decaf," Joseph added, irritating his sister.

"You're starting that already?"

"Caffeine isn't good for the baby." Amy snorted, and for a while, they sat in silence, letting themselves get lost in thoughts.

#####################

Sam was making dinner when her cell rang once more. She sighed and looked at the caller ID, relieved to see it was Abby, and not Gibbs for once.

"Hey, Abby."

"Hi, Sam." Abby nodded to Tony, who was relieved that she'd answered the phone. "I'm just calling to see how you are."

"I'm doing good. Picking up the pieces."

"How are the girls?"

"They're confused. Angry. And I can't blame them." Sam was quiet, and for once, Abby didn't interrupt. "He called, and left a message on my machine. Apologizing. The weird thing? I'm not even sure he knew what to apologize for."

"I think he did." Abby chuckled. "Both Tony and I ripped into him pretty good. Hangover and all."

"Good." Sam felt a slight pang, having a slight idea of how bad his head must have been feeling, but her pang wasn't enough to keep her from being glad that they'd laid into him.

"Are you going to be ok?"

"Yeah, we'll be fine. I need to tell him I'm willing to talk, but not over the phone."

"So you'll come to DC?" Abby bounced on her toes. "Tony and I can take the girls…"

"Oh, no, Abby. I'm not leaving home. If he wants to talk, he can come here." Sam's tone brooked no argument. "I'd appreciate it if you two could watch the girls here, though. If things get out of hand, you'd be here to act as a buffer."

"Sounds good. I'll tell Tony, and we'll see you Saturday. Tony's off rotation this weekend, and, well, Gibbs will just have to be free, won't he?"

"Assuming he's really wanting to make up, yes."


	97. Chapter 97

Disclaimer: Don't own it. I only play with it.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar, my amazing beta. Love you!

Note: I mention the movie "Monster". I don't own the movie, I don't own the plot, the characters, or anything else associated with it.

Note: ALSO! Many thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, and I can't think of what else right now. Lol I'm sorry that I've not responded to all of your reviews for the last two chapters. I've tried, and then I get overwhelmed. My apologies. Thanks to those of you still reading.

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While Amy was busy packing her few possessions into the new suitcase set that her An' Sam had purchased for her when Acheflow had moved, Howard was packing his few possessions. However, he packed for an entirely different purpose.

The teen was feeling foolish and as if the world was against her. Her grandparents were disapproving, and her Aunt Arleen and Uncle Phil seemed to feel vindicated in their near-hatred of her, and had made this past week miserable for her.

Howard just wanted to get out of town before his latest kill was discovered. He'd met this pretty young deputy, and he'd flirted with her, made out with her in a movie theater like a couple of teenagers, and then he'd asked her to go camping with him. She'd said yes, since she loved the outdoors. He'd killed her that first night, burying her in a shallow grave only yards where they had set up camp. He knew it was sloppy, but he'd used a fake ID the entire time, and no one really knew him, with the exception of Victoria, and without a séance, no one was getting any answers from her.

As Amy boarded the airplane that would convey her to Washington DC along with her brother Joseph, obviously to make sure she didn't decide to run off or do anything else of the stupid variety, Howard was throwing the last of his dirty laundry into the trunk of his newly stolen car. After all, he had to destroy the truck. If it was burned, and she was buried, then perhaps, it'd throw the law off of his scent for long enough for him to get away.

Even as he worried, he felt the thrill of victory. He'd killed his first cop. Not a rent-a-cop, not a trained security guard, but an honest, been on the force for three years cop. Thoughts of how to bag a sergeant or someone of even higher ranking flowed through his head, even as he reminded himself to slow down. He didn't have to kill them all in one day. He had time.

After all, he'd given himself a two year schedule. And he was ahead by three states and ten bodies. He could take a little relaxation time. Give the cops the feeling of dread. Just like in a horror movie or a suspense thriller. A sickening smirk raced across his face. He wondered if he took on a gay lover if they'd make a movie of his life. After all, he'd seen the movie "Monster". Maybe he'd have to watch it again.

#########

The plane landed, and Joseph and Amy got into the car An' Sam had rented for them. The drive wasn't going to be long, at least not according to High Plains standards, but it was still long enough that Amy had time to get worried.

"Why didn't she come to get us? Is she that mad at me?"

"No." Joseph chuckled. "She's upset, don't get me wrong, but she's more worried about how you're doing. Obviously, you need more support than what you were getting."

"Oh, great. So I'm going to be a charity case for her to slobber all over."

"Hey." Joseph's voice was sharp. "She's seeing this from your perspective, Amy. She's the only one who has even tried." Amy had the good graces to look down at her hands. "Don't go giving her attitude. She could have just as easily let you go to Arleen and Phil's. They asked for you, and she told them no way in hell. So don't throw attitude her way."

"It's just I'm so confused, Joey, and she's not going to let me make my own choices. I mean," Amy waved her hand in the air.

"She's so traditional?"

"Yeah." Amy scoffed slightly. "She's all like, "You can make your own choices, and I think they'll be good ones if you're given the right direction to go in." That tells me that she's not going to let me decide anything. She's anti-abortion, cuz she believes it's murder. So if I decide to get an abortion…"

"An' Sam may not like it, but if she said she'll let you make your own choices, then that's what she means."

"Yeah, after I've been taught properly." Amy rolled her eyes. "What does that mean?"

"Probably that you'll have to talk to a counselor. Or a doctor. Someone like that. Someone who will tell you all of your options, what all of them mean, and will help you decide."

"Are we talking about the same An' Sam?" Amy chuckled. "I remember a woman who fought tooth and nails to keep a farm going. She's not gonna roll over now."

"She fought for what she believes in, Amy, and she believes that you have the right to make your own choice, so long as you have all of the information. Think about that."

The rest of the ride was silent, as Amy realized her brother wasn't going to cave to her attempts at getting him to side with her on anything. As her mother would say, she'd made her bed, and now it was time to lay in it.

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Gibbs knocked at the door, his knees fairly trembling. It had been an entire week since he'd talked to his family, and he wasn't sure how he was going to make things right. But these past few days had left an ache in his chest unparalleled, with the exception of the loss of Shannon and Kelly.

The door opened a bit, and his heart clenched as Acheflow looked up at him with absolute anger written on her face.

"You've been mean. Go away." With that, she slammed the door. He heard a shuffling of feet, and a quiet reprimand. He hoped that the reprimand meant that things would go smoothly, but he held no real hope.

The door opened again, and Sam stood in the door, her arms crossed defensively. She quirked an eyebrow while she effectively blocked the door with her stocky form.

"Can I come in?"

"No." Her face closed off. "I'm not letting you in this house until we talk."

"Then where can we go?"

"Tony and Abby are here?"

"In the car. They wanted me to come to the door first. Face the fire myself."

"They're smart."

"So where can we go?"

"Once they're here to watch the girls, we'll head to the barn. We can talk outside."

"Ok." He turned and motioned to Tony and Abby, who came from the car.

#########

"So, Gibbs." Sam turned to Gibbs once they were in the barn. He looked around, slowly deciding what he wanted to say. There were only a few goats, and he couldn't see any of the signs of milking that he'd seen at the last farm. Apparently, she'd gotten all dry goats in.

Sam watched him, knowing he was a man who didn't bend easily. But dammit, she wasn't going to start this conversation. He caused the problem, he could damn well fix it.

"I screwed up." She rolled her eyes.

"Thanks, Director Obvious." She started to push past him, intending to leave the barn. If that was the best he could come up with, it wasn't going to be enough. A firm hand on her arm stopped her.

"I'm serious, Sam." Jethro sighed. "We had a case where a man killed his family." He dropped his hand and began to pace, hoping he could get her to understand. "I went home, and started to work on the boat." He cleared his throat, nearly afraid to look up at her.

"I turned on the radio you gave me, and the song they played at Shannon and my wedding came on. I started to think about how I failed them, and then how I failed every woman I married after that. How I hurt them."

"So calling me and hurting me was the reasonable thing to do, huh? Nice. So I know what to expect if you get another bad case."

"No, dammit!" Gibbs ran his hands through his hair. She certainly wasn't making this easy, but he really couldn't blame her. "I started this litany, and then I got mad, cuz I had sworn off love, marriage, or anything even remotely close to it."

Sam's face closed off even further. He wasn't scoring any points here.

"And then I met this goat farmer in the middle of a blizzard." His eyes met hers. "She saved me in more ways than I realized, until I screwed up, and she was gone."

"How did she save you?" Sam leaned against the barn wall, not willing to be touched, but at least willing to listen.

"She showed me laughter again. And she taught me how to let go of Shannon and Kelly. She showed me that letting them go didn't mean forgetting them, but honoring their memory as I moved forward. She showed me how to open my heart and mind to new possibilities." He shrugged.

Sam knew that as far as a man talking about his feelings, he was doing pretty well. Ellis had always struggled with that, too. There were times when he wrote her letters even when he was home. Words seemed easier that way.

"What else, Gibbs?" His heart soared that at least he was no longer "Director". He was making progress. Hopefully, he wouldn't step in it again.

"I don't know how to explain it, Sam."

"Try. Just start talking. If I get confused, I can ask questions."

"I'm just afraid of making you mad again."

"Well, I'm still mad. So don't worry about making it worse."

"Oh, that helps." His sarcasm made her smirk, but he felt a knot release. Teasing, even if it was honest and somewhat painful, was another good sign.

They were quiet for a minute while he got his thoughts together again.

"I was sanding, like I said, and then I started to go over this list of my failures, and I could see myself failing you." He closed his eyes, fear washing over him. This was going to be the hardest part. "I could see myself doing something stupid to hurt you. Not now, but years down the road. I don't even know what. And then I got angry."

"Why'd you get mad?"

"Because you'd made me care again." He looked over at her, and saw genuine compassion in her eyes, if not forgiveness. "You broke through my walls. You got in. You and your girls. And I became more and more guilt-ridden and frightened by the moment." He swallowed hard.

"Frightened. The director of a federal agency. A former sniper. Scared shitless that he's gonna hurt the people he loves." He scoffed at himself.

"I can understand all of that, Gibbs. But what I don't get is why you called me. Do you really want to end it? Or what do you want? You seem like you want us to be, I don't know, a family. Even to the girls calling you Daddy or Ate, whichever language they speak in these days. Sometimes it's both in the same sentence. If you want that, why did you call me? Say those things?"

"Fear." He didn't try to hide behind any excuses. "I figured that it'd be easier to say good-bye now rather than hurt you more later."

"Wow. That was smart."

"Yeah." He snorted in derision before turning to face her fully. "I've missed you, Sam. You and the girls. This week has taught me that I don't want to be without you."

"Honestly, Gibbs?" He nodded, knowing what was coming next wasn't going to be good. Her eyes held a fire he'd long suspected could be there, but he'd only seen shades of it before. She was incredible like this. "I don't know why the hell I'd take you back." He flinched.

"You've hurt me, the girls are confused, and there's been a shitload of stuff that's happened in this week that I really needed you for, and you weren't here for me. There's been a lot of upheaval in all of our lives. And the girls have needed you. And I've needed you."

"I'm so sorry, Sam. I don't know what else to say."

"How about you ask what's been going on?"

"What has been going on?" Gibbs sighed. "I tried to call you several times. You could have answered."

"Yes, and then you could have gone on as if nothing had happened. It's not that simple."

Gibbs rubbed his hand across his forehead. This was so screwed up, and the more he tried to fix it, the more he realized just how badly he'd hurt her and the girls.

"I'm sorry, Sam." There was an edge to his voice, brought on by the agitation he felt at not being able to fix the problems he'd created.

"Good. You should be."

"What happened, Sam?" He met her stormy eyes once more. "I really want to know. And if I can help, I want to know how to. That's all I can do now. I can't change the fact that I spent the last week being a bastard."

Sam regarded him for a moment, as if deciding. He felt as if he was stripped bare, as if she was looking for vulnerable areas in his mental armor. He'd never angered her before, at least not like this, and he figured that if they worked it out, he'd never do it again, either. He didn't scare easily, and she was terrifying him.

"Well, for starters, I've had three little girls who have been missing Ate and Uncle Gibbs all week." He winced. "And Acheflow heard part of your shit." Sam shrugged, "Well, my response to it, anyway, and she saw me crying, so she's afraid of you now. Afraid and angry. You've got a long way to go with her, if we decide that we're gonna make us work."

Gibbs nodded, knowing that she was right. He needed to make it up to all of them. Probably even Joseph. He'd taken on the family, and then he'd torn them apart. The more she spoke, the more shitty he felt.

"Add to that the fact that Acheflow opened up about why she wanted to come live with me after the funeral, and not wait until the end of the school-year, like Amy did." Gibbs nodded, silently asking her to continue. "Amy was sleeping around." Gibbs eyes grew.

"Oh, it gets better, Gibbs."

"What's happened?"

"Amy's here. She flew in two days ago with Joseph. He had to leave already, to make it back to school."

"Why's she here?" Sam sighed.

"She's pregnant, Gibbs." Her eyes hardened again. "Here's the deal, Gibbs. You need to decide now if we're gonna make it. It's up to you. You made the problem, you get to decide. I'll not fight to keep a relationship with you if you're gonna keep pulling this shit."

"I know I've hurt you in a lot of ways, Sam." Gibbs picked at a splinter on the barn wall, keeping his hands busy so he didn't just clam up. "I've compared you to my exes, and I've blamed my bad choices and failures on everyone but me." She fought the tears in her eyes. This had to be hard for him to say.

"But I can't live without you. I don't want to." He shrugged. "I don't know how to make it right. I don't know how to be the man I was when Shannon was alive. I lost myself in anger and self-pity. You've helped me pull out of that, but I still fight with it sometimes. It'll take me a while to get my head on straight, so that I don't hurt you again. Honestly, I'm not sure I'll ever be good enough for you." He drew in a shaky breath as he turned to face her.

"The only thing I can hope for is that you'll accept my apology and give me another chance. I can't promise that I'll never hurt you again, but I can promise that I'll start working on being the man I was." He drew in another deep breath. "Will you forgive me? Please?"

"You got one more chance, Gibbs." Sam's voice shook as she spoke. "I fell in love with you. I'll not deny it. But I wouldn't put myself through more, and I'm certainly not going to put the girls through it."

Gibbs nodded, feeling a great swell of relief flow through him.

"So where do we go from here?"

"I've thought of some ground rules over the last week."

"Yeah?" Gibbs was glad that she'd thought of ways they could make it. Hopefully they were things he could actually do. He hated to even think of it, but Diane had done the same thing, and they'd been impossible for him to follow. She'd set him up for failure. However, he held his tongue, knowing that to say that would be death to their relationship.

"First, no staying here at the farm for a while." She held up her hand to silence his comments. "Just until I'm sure that we're gonna work. I can't risk hurting the girls again."

"That's fair enough."

"Second, you're going to apologize to the girls, and call Joseph and do the same for him." Gibbs swallowed hard. This was doable, but for a man who'd spent the last twenty years refusing to apologize for anything, it was going to be a major lesson in humility. Time to swallow his pride.

"Third, and this one will be hard for you." He felt his knees go weak. The first two were tough. "You're going to stop drinking. Coffee is fine, but if you have anything harder than NA beer, we're done."

"Sam!"

"You want to argue that?" She quirked an eyebrow. "My father was a drunk, Vernon was the same, and you've pulled a dumb ass move already with your drinking. So that's a huge condition for me. It's literally me and the kids or your alcohol. You pick."

She saw him swallow hard, but he nodded in agreement.

"What else?" His voice nearly rasped, and she felt a tiny shred of pity for him, even though it wasn't enough to stop listing conditions.

"No calling after nine at night unless one of you is dead or seriously hurt. You've lost that right for now." He nodded. There was no arguing with that.

"Weekends are family time. I don't care if you're working. You can make a few hours to have lunch with us, even if we meet you in DC." He breathed a sigh of relief. That would be easy to do.

"And the last thing." Sam squared her shoulders. "Amy's making decisions about her life and the baby. I don't agree with everything that she's thinking about, but you've got to respect her decisions. I'm guiding her, and having her talk to counselors. You have to just abide by what she wants. She got herself pregnant, and I can't force her to do anything. But you've got to be here for her. And the rest of us, no matter what happens."

She stared at him silently for a moment, letting him digest everything she'd just said.

"I'm going up to the house, Jethro." He met her eyes, nodding his agreement. "I don't want you to come up until you've thought it all over. Don't accept my boundaries with thoughts of getting out of them later. They're non-negotiable. Either way, let me know. If we're done, we're telling the girls together. If we're going to work this out, then you've got some apologizing to do."

With that, she turned and exited the barn, leaving him alone with the few goats in the barn. He turned around to lean on the wall, and noticed that they were all staring at him intently.

"What are you looking at?"

One of them perked her ears up and fairly shouted at him. He smirked.

"Pissed you off, too, huh?"

##############

Abby had finished popping the popcorn, all the while peering around the corner from her spot where she could see the girls and the window that Tony was keeping a careful watch from.

"Any sightings yet?"

"Well, there's no flames, and I don't hear any screams, so apparently they're both still alive."

"That's progress." Tony scoffed.

"Is da puppy corns ready?" Allie stood in the door, her eyes wide. She didn't like her new Mama being outside with Daddy. He was mean and scary.

"Yep!" Abby held the bowl out, with a smile plastered to her face. "Let's go back and eat in the living room, ok? We'll share it on the blanket on the floor."

"'K." Allie padded back to the room, telling her sisters as she retraced her steps to get to the blanket. By the time Abby reached them, the three youngest were scrunched together on the blanket, leaving just enough room for Abby and the bowl.

As Prince Charming sang to Cinderella, Tony came jogging into the room, his face carefully schooled.

"Sam's on her way back up."

"Where's Gibbs?"

"No sign of him." Abby nodded and returned to the movie, as if nothing was wrong. Amy just glared at the two.

"I don't know why you care if they get back together or not. He's not going to be any different than my dad. He makes a good show, but he's an asshole. He's proved it already." She huffed as Tony glared at her. "Come on. I've seen the dog and pony show. My dad was the King. This guy's no different."

"He is different, kid. He does give a shit, and you're not gonna get in the way of whatever they decide, clear?"

Amy glared back before sneering, "Do you really think you can keep me from doing anything?"

Tony pointed into Amy's face, getting ready to start a lecture, when Abby whirled around.

"Hey!" They both turned to her. "Sam's coming in, and she's got enough to think about. Both of you can it."

Sam came in, shutting the door quietly. She stalked to the table and sat down, looking at her hands. They weren't any different than they'd been half an hour ago, which for some reason, seemed surprising. She felt like the rest of her had aged.

Minutes passed, and she found herself making coffee, just in case Gibbs came in and wanted to stay for a bit. He'd need coffee if he was going to apologize. And she'd need coffee if he wasn't. She paced to the window, but couldn't bring herself to look out to see if he was coming.

With a sigh, she moved to the living room, sitting between Amy and Tony on the couch.

She stared blankly at the screen, not caring that the Duke was trying to save the shoe from Cinderella's step-sisters while tiny mice tried to save the day one gigantic stair at a time. She heard the door open quietly and rose, knowing that whatever Gibbs had to say, she wanted to hear it first.

They met in the kitchen, and were unaware of the audience they'd garnered from the living room. Gibbs' eyes were misty, as if he'd not bothered to wipe them after tears, and his face was slightly red. He stood before her for just a moment before reaching out and taking both of her hands in his.

"Sam," He cleared his throat. "You're right. I need to decide what I want in life. And I did." He met her eyes, his nervousness showing in the slight shaking of his hands and the tremble in his voice.

"What did you decide?" Her voice was soft enough to reach only his ears, even though the others all strained to hear.

"I need you, Sam. I need you, and our family. I want to be here for you, and for the girls. I want to help Amy however I can, and I want to be Allie and Alex's Ate. I want to be whatever Acheflow will let me be in her life.

"I accept every condition you laid down, including giving up drinking." Tony and Abby exchanged glances. "I'll pour it out as soon as I get home." He paused. "I love you, Sam, and I want to make us work. Will you take me back?"

"You're willing to apologize to everyone?"

"Yep." He nodded, certainty flowing through him. "I hurt them by making a promise and then not being here this week. You were right to not answer my calls. I was wrong."

"Then welcome home, Jethro." Sam smiled, and Gibbs felt as if he'd won the lottery. He knew they had a long way to go.

He planned on dating her properly. Not just assuming that she'd go with him to things, but making reservations at fancy restaurants and getting babysitters. If he was going to make them work, then he needed to work at it.

He'd not cared about any of his marriages since Shannon, but he cared about this one, even if they weren't married so to speak. Hopefully, one day, he'd earn the right to ask her.

Allie stomped into the kitchen, her arms crossed, and glared up at Gibbs.

"You really sorry?"

"Yeah, sweetie, I am." He got down on his knees so he was eye level with her.

"I'm sorry. I was mean, and I'll never do it again. I promise." The little girl seemed to think this over for a moment.

"You still my Ate?"

"Always."

"Good." With that, she turned on her heel and went back to the TV, just in time to see the Prince marry Cinderella.

Sam chuckled as she shook her head. Gibbs stood and drew her to him, quietly asking permission to kiss her. Tony and Abby silently celebrated as they witnessed the final part of their reconciliation.


	98. Chapter 98

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

Note: thanks to Headbanger, who keeps me going, and helps me remember what I'm doing. Lol Love you!

Note: I know Christmas is over. I missed it. Oh, well. Hope you enjoy it, anyway.

##############

Gibbs moved his sander along the planes of wood. The last few hours had been precious, if not difficult. The little ones hadn't batted an eye at his apology. While it made him glad that he'd regained their trust so easily, it hurt him terribly that they were so accustomed to behavior like what he'd done, that they welcomed him back into their lives with no problems.

Amy worried him, however. She hadn't been the happiest kid when he'd met her before, but now she was a bundle of hatred compounded by hormones and shame. He'd tried to make amends with her, but he knew he'd not even started with her. No mere apology was going to work. He wondered if he'd ever find the key to unlocking the girl she wanted to be.

His relationship with Joseph had suffered, as well, and he couldn't admit to anything but that he deserved the younger man's anger. He had indeed behaved just like Vernon.

Jethro sighed as he looked to his empty "varnish" shelf. There were no more empty jars that smelled of bourbon, and the final bottle had been handed over to Tony and Abby before the two had returned to their own home. He ran his hand over his mouth and ran up the stairs. Coffee. He needed coffee.

################

Sam sat at the edge of her bed, surrounded by wrapping paper and tape. She'd forgotten it was going to be Christmas with all of the insanity circling around between Gibbs' and Amy's problems. Thank heavens Abby had been willing to go shopping with her, or she'd really be in trouble in a few days.

Tony and Gibbs had stayed with the girls while the ladies had gone, and during that time, the workers had come to finish the new outbuilding she'd ordered. When they'd returned with packages, they'd had a hard time hiding everything from the girls as they'd toted everything up to her room, and she'd had the added difficulty of figuring out how to hide what the new building was for from Gibbs.

While Sam wrapped presents and made sure they were tagged and safely hidden in her closet once more, Gibbs was making his second pot of coffee for the evening. He heard his front door open, and growled. He wasn't in the mood for company unless it was in the form of a short, slightly overweight American Indian woman who wanted to …talk.

"Hey, Boss!" DiNozzo grinned at Gibbs. "How's it going?" Gibbs just slid his glare from the coffee pot to his friend. "That good, huh?"

"This no drinking thing…"

"Getting to you?"

"It's how I relax, Tony."

"I know." Tony sighed as he pulled a cup from the cupboard. "But you know, she's got a point."

"Ya think?" Gibbs snorted. "I've done, with one phone call, everything that her father, the girls' father, and her brother-in-law, had ever done to them. I was cruel." He ran his hands down his face. "And I was stupid." The men stood in silence, just waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.

"Done some thinking, DiNozzo."

"Yeah?" Gibbs nodded. "Gonna tell me about it?"

"I miss her, Tony."

"You talked to her what, two hours ago?"

"Yeah, but I miss coming home to her." Gibbs poured himself a cup of coffee and leaned back against the counter. "I miss the girls being here in the house, and I miss being able to go to the farm and be with my family," Gibbs cleared his throat before continuing, "I'm lonely."

"So what're you going to do about it?"

"That's just it, Tony." Gibbs ran a hand through his hair. "I made us a bed-frame, but now's not the time to give it to her." Thousands of smart comments ran through Tony's mind, but he decided to spare himself a concussion, and simply nodded instead. "So that leaves me presentless." He scoffed at himself. "Not a great way to show up for Christmas after what I've done."

"I'd have to agree with you there, Boss." Tony stroked his chin. "You thinking of something that will show your commitment, and yet not be a 'hey, here I am, I'm back, and that's all there is to it' present?"

"Yeah. Something like that."

"Jewelry."

"Sam doesn't wear any."

"But it doesn't mean she doesn't appreciate it." Tony grinned. "Come on, Boss, you know how women are with the sparkly stuff."

"Sam's more the pitch-fork kind."

"Nope." Tony winked. "I happen to have it on good authority from a certain Goth goddess that Sam was fairly drooling over a bracelet she saw at the mall."

Gibbs looked at the younger man slightly sideways. Tony grinned, nodding as he wiggled his eyebrows.

"A bracelet, huh?"

The men chatted as they headed down to Gibbs' basement. Tony had agreed to help him finish things up during this last week, work permitting, and they were coming to the crunch time. Even with his earlier grumblings, the older man was now thankful for Tony's presence.

###############

Christmas morning finally came, and Gibbs drove his rented truck at a much slower speed than he usually drove his Charger, much to Tony and Abby's delight. They'd come along behind him, acting as a sort of guard as he drove to the farm, and had plans to have breakfast out before getting Christmas dinner ready for their team.

Tony and Abby wondered why their phones were so silent. Gibbs had been brooding all morning, as if terrified of going to the farm. Abby finally decided it was time to take matters into her own hands and dialed her phone.

"Gibbs."

"Hey, Bossman." She chirruped into her phone.

"What's up?"  
>"You're awfully quiet this morning. Everything ok?"<p>

"Just worried about screwing up, Abs."

"You'll be fine, Gibbs." Abby chewed her lip for a moment. "You want to get this right, which is why you're so worried. So the fact that you're so worried is the very reason you can calm down."

Gibbs chuckled at her reasoning. It was circular, but she had a point. If he didn't care, he wouldn't be so worried.

"You don't think this bracelet is too much?"

"No!" She fairly bounced in her seat, and Tony smiled across at her. "It's awesome! She's gonna love it, and it shows your commitment to her. It really does."

"I hope you're right, Abs." He chuckled. "Gotta go. Don't wanna talk more while driving."

"Right. No tickets or accidents on Christmas morning." He chuckled as he hung up. Tony was going to have an interesting life, that was for sure.

They finally pulled up to the farm, and Gibbs jumped out of the truck, punching in his access code along with the key he needed to unlock the secondary gate. He guessed he'd gone a little overboard with reinforcing the security, but he wanted to make sure his family was safe. He'd lost his girls once. He wasn't about to do it again.

He waited for Tony and Abby to drive in before relocking the gate. He felt a thrill pass through him as he thought of what the day could hold. `He'd not had a family Christmas with anyone but his team in years.

Sam was waiting for them, and she opened the garage as they drove up. He turned the truck around to make unloading easier, and finally turned the engine off, hoping he'd not woken any of the girls with the loud engine.

"Morning." Sam greeted him with a quick kiss. "Easy roads?"

"Not too bad." He slid open the back of the truck, knowing they'd need to hurry. Sam's eyes widened at the large pile of furnishings that filled the truck.

"You weren't kidding when you said you made use of your time."

"Tony helped."

"Thanks, Tony." Sam hugged him, winking over to Abby. "Must have cost you a few nights away from home."

"Yeah, but I liked it." Abby cheekily pinched Tony's butt as she walked past. "I got to sleep."

Tony and Gibbs rolled their eyes as Abby reached past the older man and pulled out a bow-bound rocking horse. The tag on it was small block letters, clearly spelling "Alex". The sight warmed Sam's heart, and she was glad once more that Gibbs had accepted her terms.

##############

The presents were all piled by and under the tree. Tony and Abby left only a few minutes before, and Sam and Jethro settled onto the couch with coffee while they waited for the kids to wake up. Joseph had come back after his last exam, and was sleeping downstairs in his basement apartment. The younger man still couldn't believe that the space was his when he came. It seemed to be too much.

There weren't many words exchanged as the couple simply absorbed the other's presence. The few kisses they enjoyed were light and sweet, never turning heavy or demanding. Just as Gibbs debated on giving her his gift early in case it wasn't well received, they heard footsteps on the stairs.

Gibbs started to chuckle as Acheflow peered around the corner, her eyes growing huge as she looked at the mountains of presents that surrounded the tree. To her little eyes, it was as if the entire living room had turned into a gigantic present pile. An' Sam had told them that if they were good little girls and went to sleep last night, that there'd be presents in the morning. She'd not believed that there'd be many. Her Mom and Dad could only give her one present a year. And it was usually clothes. Those presents weren't clothes.

She'd barely turned on her heels to head back upstairs before she started to shout for her sisters. Her little feet sped along the hall as she shouted excitedly, ordering her sisters to come as fast as they could. Allie and Alex came out of their rooms, their eyes wide. Had Santa really come? Had Mama told them the truth? Amy also came from her room, her arms crossed over her stomach. She looked disgruntled, as if there was no good reason to be awake before noon over Christmas vacation. After all, they'd get their one present. One present, and if they were lucky, an actual roast instead of hamburgers.

Amy sighed as she followed her younger sisters. Sure, her aunt was rich, but there was no way, after everything she and her family had put her through, that they'd be having a "real" Christmas. Not like the one Sam had described last night. The little ones were so easy. After all, she'd peeked in the closet. She knew they each had two gifts.

Her eyes widened as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Those hadn't all been in the house or barn the day before. She'd looked. Her eyes narrowed. Gibbs. He was trying to buy them.

"Girls!" Sam laughed as she picked the two littlest ones up. "Sni nahanhci. Bla kiktapi Joseph." _Not yet. Go wake up Joseph._

They shrieked, and with Acheflow leading them, they raced to the basement, giggling about how they could pounce him awake. Gibbs stood, knowing he needed to talk to Amy before the day really started. He had seen the look on her face, and wanted to deal with it.

"Amy, I know you don't like me, but I'm going to ask that you don't ruin today for your sisters." His eyes bored into hers. "Please?"

"Glad that you realize a bunch of presents isn't going to buy me, Mister." She sneered at him. "I'm not a little girl that's easily bought."

"I'm not looking to buy anyone, Amy." He sighed. "And most of these presents are from your aunt, not me. They were just being stored at my place so they wouldn't be found."

"Amy, please?" Sam stood by Gibbs. Amy nodded, and then looked ill. She clamped her hand over her mouth and ran to the half-bath that was thankfully tucked underneath the stairs.

Sam followed her, helping to hold her hair and clean her up afterwards. Gibbs ran his hands down his face. He'd known pregnant teens could be touchy. He just didn't expect her to be _so_ angry.

Downstairs, Joseph pretended to still be asleep, even as he heard his sisters "sneak" into his room. He did his best to not laugh outright at the shushing and hushing that they did amid their noisy giggles. Still, there was a brief moment of surprise, wondering when exactly he'd be pounced upon. He didn't have to wait long.

Acheflow landed first, followed seconds later by Allie, and he needed to help Alex up so she could join in the tickle-war that her sisters were determined to start with him. He laughed as he tickled the little ones back, earning shrieks of happiness in reply. He didn't care if there wasn't anything under the tree this year. Just hearing his girls happy, really happy, was enough.

By the time they made it up from the basement, Amy was ensconced in a chair with a cup of tea and a handful of soda crackers that Gibbs had readied while she was still in the bathroom. She took them grudgingly, knowing that she was being unfair, but couldn't seem to stop herself. She was so afraid of her sisters being hurt by him, like her whole family had been hurt by their father.

Joseph's eyes widened as he entered the living room. He'd helped his aunt carry down the presents from her closet last night. There wasn't this much. She'd been holding out on them. And Uncle Gibbs. He'd obviously had his part in it.

There was a moment of silence, and then Sam nodded toward the mountain of gifts. Acheflow bounced with excitement as she started to sort though, looking for ones with her name. In the process, she began to pile presents before her younger sisters, as Sam and Gibbs worked along with her, sorting out things for Joseph and Amy.

It seemed only moments later, and the living room was a flurry of wrapping paper and laughter. Sam and Gibbs sat back, watching as their family enjoyed their presents. One after another, toys were hugged, discarded, and new ones were opened, only to receive the same treatment.

Sam felt Gibbs tug at her hand, and she looked at him with widening eyes as he dropped from the couch to kneel at her side. Movement in the living room stopped, every one of the children wondering what he was going to do. Tensions still ran high among the siblings, as Amy didn't like the girls calling An' Sam Mama, and she especially didn't like them calling Gibbs Daddy. She was glad that Acheflow hadn't forgotten their parents, at least.

Joseph felt his heart speed up as Gibbs pulled something from his pocket. The box was far too large to be a ring, but with Uncle Gibbs, it could be almost anything.

"I wanted to get you something that shows my commitment to you, Sam." He cleared his throat. "My commitment to all of you." He looked around the room, taking in the faces staring at him. "I know I've messed up too badly to give you a ring, but," he paused, suddenly unsure of himself. "Here."

He thrust the box into her hands, his own shaking. It was the wrong gift. He knew it. His gut was churning. He should have given it to her earlier.

"Jethro," Sam breathed out his name as she pulled the bracelet from its box. She turned it slowly, looking at the detail of the work. There were seven stones set in gold and silver, with seven names written around them. Her eyes filled as she passed the bracelet to Joseph, who saw the significance of what the man had offered.

All of his siblings' names, his included, were on the bracelet, surrounded by the couple's. All of their birth stones were set in silver, and the silver was set into a large gold band. While he normally wasn't a fan of gold and silver together, this was a work of art. He nodded his approval before lowering it so his younger sisters could see it.

He passed it to Amy, and she looked it over for a moment before handing it back to Sam.

"So, you gonna live here now?"

"No." Gibbs met Sam's eyes. "I've got a lot to make up for. I know that." Gibbs looked to his niece. "I have a long way to go before I've earned your trust." The teen nodded. "I'm willing to wait until I've earned that trust, if you'll let me, before we talk about me moving in."

"So you're serious? You really want to be here with us? We're not just, I don't know, charity?"

"Amy!" Sam snapped at her, shocked that the girl would be so mean.

"She's got a right to speak her mind, Sam." Gibbs defense of her had Amy's eyebrow raised. "And yes, I want to be with you. All of you." He pulled Alex into his lap, as Allie came and settled on his other side. "You're not charity, you're not time I'm filling, you're my family."

"Then, as a member of this family, would you be willing to help me put my present on?" Sam held the bracelet to him.

Time seemed to slow. Sam and Gibbs locked eyes as he slid the bracelet onto her arm. While he knew there would be more to follow, he felt as if he were proposing marriage to her, and that she was accepting. For Sam, it was if he was realizing the place he needed to fill with a new understanding. He'd said once that he wanted to be here for the children, and he'd reciting part of the traditional marriage vows once, yet this felt more binding than anything else.

He had literally written his love in stone.

Gibbs cleared his throat, not wanting to prolong the moment, as Sam looked a little more than overwhelmed.

"Joseph, there's a gift that's not under the tree."

"Oh? I'm getting your Charger?" Gibbs smirked.

"In your dreams, Kiddo." Joseph snapped his fingers. "And don't get your hopes to high. Tony gets it in my will."

"Dammit!"

"Hey!" Sam shook her head at her nephew. "Little ears?"

"Sorry." Joseph sat up, as if getting ready to hear something of great import. "I'm ready now."

"Sure ya are." Gibbs tossed a ball of wadded paper at him. "I'm wanting to make sure that you've got everything for school, and I know your aunt can buy it all with ease now, but I want to help."

"Ok." Joseph drug the word out slowly.

"So I'm going to buy your course books for this next year."

"Wow." Joseph sat back, not sure of what to make of this offer. "Um, ok."

"Come on, Gibbs." Sam stood up, holding her hand out to him. "Let's go take a walk."

"Can we come?" Acheflow stood, fairly bouncing. She knew what An' Sam was going to show Uncle Gibbs.

"Not this time, sweetie." Sam bent down and kissed her hair. "You stay here with your brother and sisters, ok?"

A chorus of "aw" rang from their children, but they all stayed put while Sam and Gibbs put on their outdoor wear.

"Really? Dragging me outside?" He smiled.

"Yep. Got something to show you." His brow furrowed. "Don't worry. You're not in trouble."

He was visibly relieved as they walked outside, and Sam checked her pocket once more to be sure she'd not lost the key. To her relief, it was still safely stuck deeply in her blue jeans.

"Headed to the wood shed, huh?" He looked at her, mischief in his eyes. "This is a new building." His eyes grew larger. "When did you get it put up, and why?"

"Just come have a peek, Jethro." Sam sighed like a long-suffering parent. "Here. Need this to open it." She handed him the key, and he plucked it from her fingers, still slightly confused and mildly concerned.

He finally turned the key in the lock, and stepped into the surprisingly warm building. A familiar scent filled his nostrils, and he looked back to Sam, his eyes wide.

"Well, go take a look around." She smiled at him, loving his stunned reaction. She'd hoped he'd enjoy her present.

Gibbs looked at the vast room before him, astounded at what he saw. His workshop had been reproduced, and that was just the beginning. He wandered past what he "knew" from his own basement at home into what he'd spoken of as a day-dream months before.

It was as if he had his own private lumber yard. There were sheets of ply board, stacks of oak and maple planks, rows of different hues of wood. As he walked, he reached out and brushed some of it with his fingers. This wasn't second lumber. This was the best money could buy.

He turned to Sam, his eyes filled with a thousand emotions. He'd nearly lost the best thing in his life. His mind whirred with all of the things he wanted to say, from "I love you", to "I'll treat you like the queen you are".

"I hope you like it." Sam twisted her hands together. "I know you were just talking, but…"

Her speech was cut short by his mouth covering hers. He felt the hunger she returned, and thrilled as she let herself be pressed back into a pile of boards. Her hands came to his hair, and she moaned as her fingers ran through his hair for the first time in weeks.

Gibbs pushed his hips against her, letting her feel his arousal. He groaned as one of her hands pressed against the small of his back, tightening into his shirt, holding on, pushing him closer to her.

They broke for air, and Sam leaned back a bit, her face flushed as she panted, her fingers still running over his clothed back and into his hair.  
>"We need to stop." Her eyes seemed tortured by her own words.<p>

"I know." He groaned as he rested his head against hers. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…"

"I wanted to kiss you. Or didn't you notice?" She smiled up at him, patting his butt as she started to push him gently away. "Come on, let me show you everything."

"I think maybe I should explore on my own, Sam."

"Not trusting yourself?"

"Not really, no." He looked sheepish.

"Too bad. I want to watch you seeing it all."

"You're killing me here, Sam."

"No, I'm not." She winked at him. "I'm teasing you."

Together they explored Gibbs' gift. There was a kitchen, complete with a small two basin sink, a coffee pot, and a refrigerator. It had been intended as an office in the original building plans, so it also included a desk and a table. He opened one of the cupboards, and laughed. Inside were bottles of NA beer, and stacks of coffee cans and filters.

"I'm glad you like it." Sam leaned against his shoulder.

"I love it. You really like your bracelet?"

"Yes." Sam held it up, looking at it closely once more. "You added your name to our family, Jethro. You put the children between our names, as a promise to take care of them, and me." Their eyes met. "What more can I ask for?"

"A ring?"

"When we're ready." She smiled, crooking her finger at him. "But for now, you've still got some making up to do."

"How'm I doin' so far?"

"Guess?" She tugged his shirt, and he lowered his head to meet hers.

They were lost in one another, and didn't hear the door open. They didn't know that the kids had gotten worried that they were fighting again, and so Joseph had come to search for them.

Gibbs groaned as Sam's tongue ran across the roof of his mouth, her fingers tightening in his hair. He loved it when she did that. He was pretty sure she knew it. His hands ran down her back, grasping her ass, pulling him to her, grinding against her.

She moaned as her fingers straightened for a moment before one hand traveled down to mimic his movements.

They heard a startled gasp, and broke apart. Gibbs glared at Joseph, who had turned around, his ears a brilliant red.

"Um, sorry. We, uh, we were worried, cuz, ya'll, um, you been down here a long time, and uh," he broke off. "I'm, um, just gonna go back up to the house."

He walked away, and Sam started laughing. She couldn't help it. As old as she was, she had the giggles. Gibbs looked down at her, chuckling slightly, only to begin to laugh as they heard Joseph talking to himself as he walked away.

"Gross. Now I'm gonna have nightmares. I can just see me. Poking out my mind's eye within the week."

Sam started to laugh in earnest, pulling Gibbs along with her. He wrapped his arms around her, simply holding her as they laughed.

"Oh, my stomach hurts." Sam wiped at her eyes, still resting against Gibbs.

"Mine too." He chuckled. "Not laughed like that in a long time."

Sam toyed with one of the buttons on his shirt for a moment, not sure if she should say the comment that was on her tongue. Words won out.

"Welcome back to parenthood, Jethro." His arms tightened for a moment, and she worried she'd said the wrong thing.

"Thanks, Babe, for the second chance."

"Joseph is in for it, isn't he?"

"Oh, yeah." Gibbs started laughing again. "I'm thinking of all sorts of ways I can get to him."

"Be nice, and no concussions." Sam backed up and poked Gibbs in the belly. "It's Christmas, and he needs all the brain cells he can have when he gets back to school."


	99. Chapter 99

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Special thanks to Headbanger Rockstar, who's kept me going. I've wanted to give up, but she's like, no, see, people are still reading. Love ya!

Note: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS WHAT MAY BE DISTURBING MATERIAL. At the outset of this chapter, let me say that abortion is a personal choice. I have my set of morals and values that I live by, but I do not believe that I can impose my values or morals on anyone else. IN THIS CHAPTER, there is a visit to an abortion clinic. I myself have never had an abortion, but I have friends who have. I'm drawing on what they felt the need to talk about afterwards. I do not get graphic, but it may be upsetting to some readers. Also, there is some swearing as Sam and Amy leave the clinic.

THAT SAID… if you want to skip that part of the story, you can PM me, and I will tell you what happens WITHOUT you having to read it. There is a lot more in the chapter, but I'll be willing to send you a "snapshot" of the chapter, if you need it. PLEASE DO NOT FLAME ME. This is a real problem in many teens lives. Each of them will come to their own conclusion, based upon education, their family values, and their own morals. Thank you.

###############

Gibbs had spent the rest of Christmas day setting up beds, rearranging furniture in the girls' rooms, and smirking at the looks he got from Joseph on a regular basis.

"Go on, say it." Gibbs tapped the back of his nephew's head.

"You're not gonna hurt her again, are you?"

"Nope."

"Promise?"

"Yep. Figured some things out last week, Joseph." His younger counter-part stayed silent, just waiting. "I love her, Joseph." The younger man nodded. "And not just her. I've discovered I love all of you. I miss it when you're not around. I miss it when my house is quiet. I used to think that I'd never want a family again. That I'd never be able to replace Kelly."

"Is that what we are? Replacements?"

"Nope." Gibbs straightened, locking eyes with the young man he considered his son. "Found out I don't have to replace her. She's not gone. Not in here, anyway." He tapped his chest. "I just needed to get my head out of my ass and make room for more."

"And you did this?"

"So much room that if I screw up and your aunt sends me on my way, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to get back to my family. Our family." Joseph nodded in satisfaction. This guy wasn't Uncle Ellis, and life was going to be interesting with him in the mix, but he was a good man. That was all he could ask for when it came to his aunt.

That evening, after dinner, Gibbs hugged and kissed all of his girls, shaking Joseph's hand firmly, with promises of returning the next day.

"You no sweep here, Ate?" Allie looked up with anxious eyes.

"Nope, not tonight, sweetie." He tweaked her nose. "I made a promise to your Mommy, and I'm going to keep that promise."

"Ok." She sounded brokenhearted.

Amy rolled her eyes. She picked Alex up, wincing as the little girl kneed her in the stomach.

"You alright?" Gibbs was right by her, taking Alex from her, and leading her to a chair.

"I'm fine." She grimaced as her stomach churned. "This little urchin is fine, too."

"You're not liking this, huh?"

"No." She glared at him. "My jeans are getting tight, and I throw up every morning. What do you think?" Gibbs just smirked, biting back the comment he wanted to spit out. Now wasn't the time for an argument. They'd had a good day.

"Get your goodbyes said?" Sam walked into the room, wiping her hands on a cloth.

"Yep."

"What happened?" She took in Alex's trembling lip, Amy's position in the chair, with her hand pressed to her small bump, and the concerned look on Joseph's face.

"I picked up Alex, and she kneed me."

"She says she's ok, but…"

"I'm fine." Amy's words bit out angrily. "There's no need to worry, anyway." She stood up, turning as if to leave. "I want an abortion, anyway." She watched as Sam's face paled. "I was gonna wait, but don't go rushing me off to a doctor. I know that look. I don't want it, anyway. If Alex helps get rid of it, who cares!" She knew she was hurting her family, but at the moment, she didn't care.

She didn't want this. She'd wanted to be popular, not pregnant. She didn't want to be living here with her sisters, who seemed to forget they ever had a mom and dad besides Sam and Gibbs. She felt like her whole life was fucked up, and there was no fixing it. The only fixing she could think of was getting rid of the problem, and the problem was the baby, wasn't it? That's why her life fell apart. That's why all of this shit was happening.

Angry tears ran down her face as she raced up the stairs to her room. With a look to Gibbs, Sam raced after her niece. Joseph pulled Allie and Acheflow close, neither really understanding what had just happened.

"Amy?" Sam peaked into her room. "Can I come in?"

"It's your house." The words were without the venom the teen had obviously tried to inflict.

"Yes, it is, but this room is yours." Amy shrugged, so Sam approached. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

"Nothing."

"No holing up, Amy. Not after that." Sam sat on the edge of the bed, patting Amy to get her to scoot over, letting them both sit on the bed comfortably.

"Where do I start?"

"Well, how about with something that you feel like you can talk about?"

"You won't get mad?"

"Amy, even if I get upset, you're allowed to have your feelings and to speak your mind. You have decisions to make that no one can make for you, and that no one is able to tell you what to do. What I would tell you to do may be wrong for you. That's why it's your choice."

"It's not just that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Why do the girls call you Mama? Did they forget that we _have_ parents?" Amy scoffed. "Well, we did."

"No, they've not forgotten them." Sam held Amy a little closer. "Your sisters aren't as old as you, Amy, and they don't understand everything. They asked questions, and I answered them honestly. One of their questions was if I was their new Mommy. I told them that I wasn't, but that I was going to take care of them like I was their Mommy."

"What about Gibbs? Did he just sort of fall into it, too?" Amy's voice did hold the anger she felt.

"Actually, yes." Sam's fingers threaded through Amy's long hair. "Alex didn't want him to leave. She thought he was mad at her, and she promised to be good, if only Ate would stay."

"She never even called Dad Ate."

"She doesn't remember your Dad, Amy. She was too little."

"So Gibbs is all she knows?"

"He's all she remembers, sweetie."

"Got a bum deal on both dads, then."

"Why do you say that?"

"He's on probation, isn't he? Cuz he called you drunk?"

"Yes, and I've decided to give him rules. If he can follow them, then we'll make it. If not, then, well, we're going to have to work out visitation." Sam chuckled, but Amy glared at her with puffy eyes.

"Don't even joke about that, An' Sam. I'm _not_ spending weekends with him."

"And I won't ask you to." Sam kissed the top of her head.

The two sat in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Sam thought Amy had perhaps cried herself to sleep, when the teen spoke again.

"My clothes are too tight, and they hurt."

"Do you have a nightie that's loose enough."

"Yeah." Amy slid off the bed and changed quickly, returning to the bed and her aunt's waiting arms.

"You didn't tell me your clothes were getting too tight already, sweetheart. I'd have gotten you…"

"I don't want maternity clothes." Amy sniffled. "I don't want any of this."

"What don't you want, Amy?"

"I don't want this baby. I don't want to be pregnant. I never did. I just wanted to be popular. Really, that's all I wanted." Amy was wailing by this time, and Sam held her closely. "It felt so good when I was with those boys. They made me feel so special."

"And now?"

"Now I feel stupid, like I'm an idiot. And I'm dirty. No one's ever going to want me." She wound her fingers into her aunt's shirt, sobbing until she was worn out and finally asleep.

############

Downstairs, Joseph and Gibbs set about calming the three confused, crying little girls.

"What a way to finish the day on a high note, huh, Uncle Gibbs?" Joseph was angry, and not hiding it well. "You sure you still want to be here for this? We're not as nice as you seem to think we are."

"Hey!" Gibbs' voice was sharp and made Alex start crying again. "She's scared, and yes, while she picked a piss-poor time, at least she's talking."

"I just don't know what happened to her, Uncle Gibbs."

"She got left, Joseph. We all thought she was handling things better than she was. In a way, your aunt and I share blame in what happened to her. We should have checked on her more."

"Grandpa and Grandma were taking good care of her!"

"I know they were." Gibbs tone was placating. "I didn't say they weren't. But Amy needed more contact than what we thought." He shrugged. "She needed more phone calls and letters. She needed to know that more people care about her. That's all I'm saying."

Joseph nodded. He was silent for a moment before he asked in a falsely cheery voice if the girls wanted to watch a movie. Within minutes, a frustrated crab was chasing a singing mermaid beneath the ocean waves.

Gibbs headed to the kitchen and popped two bags of popcorn before returning to the living room with bowls and napkins. Alex crawled into his lap, sharing his bowl as she cuddled into his chest. She, along with her sisters, was yawning well before the movie had ended.

"Ready for baths?"

Three little heads nodded, already half asleep. Joseph grinned as he watched his uncle pick up his two youngest sisters and headed up the stairs. The man was certainly at home in the role of Dad.

It wasn't long before all three girls had been run through the tub, and Gibbs and Joseph worked together to get them dressed and their hair combed out. Acheflow walked to her room, alone, but with promises from both men that they'd come to tuck her in and say good night.

Joseph tucked the covers around Allie as he kissed her cheek. She seemed to drift off as soon as his lips left her forehead. _Lucky kid._

Gibbs sat with Alex for a moment on the side of her big, new bed. She cuddled into him, and he relished the contact. It had been years since he'd had the chance to snuggle a little one, and every time was like a precious gift.

"Go to sleep, Baby." He laid her down, tucking her in with her stuffed giraffe. She closed her eyes, and was gone, lost in the world of her dreams.

He walked down the hall to Acheflow's room, not surprised to find that Joseph was just leaving, and that she was waiting with half-closed eyes for him to fulfill his promise. He kissed her forehead, and stayed as she dropped slowly into slumber.

He patted Joseph's shoulder, nodding for the younger man to head back downstairs. Once Joseph was heading down, he headed to Amy's room and knocked softly.

"Come in." Sam whispered. He poked his head in. Sam nodded to him, and he entered the room as quietly as he could, sitting down at the edge of the bed, facing Sam.

"How is she?"

"She's worried. Scared." Sam pressed her cheek to Amy's head. "She's lost, Jethro."

"And she's awake now, thanks." Amy's voice was barely heard.

"You feeling better?"

"No." Amy sniffled. "I'm sorry I ruined Christmas."

"Well, poor timing." Gibbs chuckled as he took her hand gently, letting her know with his light grasp that she was welcome to pull away. "I'm a master at it. Give me time, and I can teach you even better times to run people mad."

Amy smiled slightly at the man's attempt to get her to relax.

"The question is if you're ok. Are you?"

"I don't know." She repositioned her head on her aunt's chest. "I'm sorry I was so mad at you for the little ones calling you Daddy."

"It's ok."

"No, it's not." Amy wiped tears from her eyes. "An' Sam explained it, and I'm sorry."

"You're allowed to feel different, Amy." Gibbs met her gaze. "I know I've messed up, and every time you've seen me, I've messed up." She nodded, agreeing with at least that much. "You have no reason to trust me, Amy, and that's my fault." He swallowed hard, not looking away from Amy long enough to see how Sam was responding to all of this. It was too important.

"I don't know how to go about making it right, or even starting, honestly. But I want to. And if this is where we need to start, then this is it. Christmas shot down, not by me for once, but in the same way I'd have done it if I were in your shoes." He nodded. "Yep. I'd have done the same thing."

"You're just saying that."

"Nope." Gibbs shook his head. "There's a reason I've been divorced so many times. It's not because my wives have been bad women, but because I've been a bastard."

"That true, An' Sam?" Amy looked up to her aunt.

"Yes, although there was one who took a nine iron to his head." Amy smirked and settled down into her aunt's arms once again.

"I just want you to know that I'm here, kiddo." He put his other hand on her hair. "I'm here, no matter what you decide, ok?"

###################

Amy clutched Sam's hand as they sat in the small office.

"You're not mad at me?" Amy's voice was clogged with tears.

"Sweetie, I'm not happy with your decision, but we've talked about it before. Just because Leski Gibbs and I don't agree, doesn't mean we're going to love you less." Sam cupped Amy's cheek. "We both want to help you, Amy, and he would have been here today, but he had to go in."

"Mom would be furious."

"Yes, she would be. But maybe she'd understand. Maybe she'd surprise you."

"I don't think so." Amy met her aunt's eyes. "Thank you."

"Of course."

Amy's name was called, and she stood on trembling legs. One step forward, and she paused, turning around.

"Will you come with me, please?"

"Yes." They walked hand in hand to the room, where a woman waited with questions and a gown.

After receiving instructions to make sure that her bladder was emptied completely, and that she needed to undress from the waist down, she was handed a green hospital gown. With a frightened look to her aunt, she went into the adjoining bathroom and closed the door.

When she came out, she was undressed save for the gown, and accepted her aunt's hand up to the gurney.

"Don't lay back, sweetie. I know it'd be more comfortable, but they're just going to have you sit up so you can move to the end, anyway."

"Move to the end?"

"Yeah." Sam stroked Amy's hair, and began to explain all that would happen during her exam. The teens' eyes grew wide. She'd not thought about anything being this invasive. Abortions had always sounded so…simple. Her mind hadn't gone to the thoughts of someone she didn't know putting something inside of her to see…the baby.

She was more comfortable with calling the thing inside of her a fetus. It wasn't a baby yet. Was it? Her teachers in school had said no, and her counselor hadn't disagreed when she'd said it wasn't alive yet. Aunt Sam was just being old-fashioned. She had to be.

Minutes later, she had finished giving the technician information on her last cycle, the guarantee that yes, she had emptied her bladder, and that she was ready to start the exam. She lay back as he asked her to, and then endured the start of her first female exam. She gasped as something cold was shoved in, scraped her cervix, and then backed out.

"Pain's over." The woman smiled benignly and looked to Sam. "Since she's had so many partners, we did a pap smear, just to be sure there're no problems."

"Certainly." Sam patted her nieces arm. "Now what?"

"Now," here she looked to Amy. "I'm going to have you stand up, and we'll put the stirrups up, and get you ready for the ultrasound."

Sam hugged Amy from behind, whispering to her that everything would be alright, even if it was frightening at the moment. They watched as a machine was brought over to the bed as the stirrups were put away, and a pillow was placed in the middle.

"Go ahead and hop up here, Amy. Make sure your hips are on the pillow. We'll have an easier time for your exam if you're at that angle."

"Ok." She took the hand that Sam offered, and climbed up on the bed, making sure she was laying down as she'd been directed to.

"Now, what we're going to do is take a look inside, before we go any farther, ok?" Amy nodded. "This is the probe that I'll be using. I'm gonna have you put it in, and then I'll take it from there, ok?"

"Ok." Amy's voice shook as she took the probe that seemed to be too large and long to fit into her.

With trembling hands, she took the probe and put it into herself. As soon as her hand was free, her Aunt Sam was right there, holding on tight.  
>"You need to relax, Baby." With a nod, Amy took a deep breath and closed her eyes, refusing to think of what was going on.<p>

"Everything looks normal." The tech nodded, twisting a knob. She needed to log just one more thing.

"What's that swooshing sound?" Amy looked down at the tech, who ignored her. "What's that sound?" There was still no answer. Sam cleared her throat, yet all she received was a sympathetic look from the nurse who was the attendant. She squeezed Amy's hand.

"That's the baby's heartbeat, honey."

"Heartbeat?" Amy felt her mouth go dry. "Can I see?"

"We don't think it's for the best…"

"My niece wants to see the screen." Sam's voice was iron. "You've not done anything but an ultrasound. Show her."

"Yes, Ma'am."

The screen was turned around, and Amy's eyes widened. She was only fifteen weeks, and didn't realize that the thing inside of her was so developed. No one had told her that. She could see the baby's head and arms, and the tiny little legs. However, it was the fluttering, beating heart that broke hers.

"I want to go home." Amy began crying. "I…" She sobbed, and Sam held her closer.  
>"I'll take you home if you really want to go. Are you sure?" Sam looked into her eyes, and Amy nodded. "Then we'll go home."<p>

"She really should speak to one of our doctors…"

"She really should be able to get up and go. She's emotionally distressed, is a minor, and has asked to go home. Now, stop your exam, and we'll be on our way."

The tech looked like she was going to argue once more, but the nurse stepped in, backing Sam up.

"We're done." She reached over and flipped off the ultrasound machine. "Pull the probe out, and you can leave, while I help her get changed and ready to go."

"She can't just…"

"She can. It's her right, and she's entitled to change her mind." The nurses' eyes were flashing with anger. As the tech stepped from the room, Sam heard Phoebe, the nurse, muttering something about "feminazi's" and how they wanted choice for everyone, so long as it was a choice they themselves liked.

"Here, Sweetie." Phoebe walked over, helping Amy up from the gurney. "You and your aunt go in the bathroom. Here's a towel to wipe up with, and there's wet ones in the wall dispenser. Take all the time you need, alright?"

Amy nodded, not trusting her voice by this time.

"Would you like me to call one of the counselors we have on staff?"

"No, thank you." Sam shook her head. She knew Amy just needed out of this dreadful place. "We'll see her counselor as quickly as we can."

"That'll be good. I'm so sorry Terri was being so rude. I'm supposed to just observe…"

"Thanks for stepping in." The two women shared a nod as Sam closed the door, giving she and Amy privacy.

The teen was standing over the commode gagging. Sam sighed and wrapped her arms around her niece, stroking her hair and helping to support her body as she expelled the tiny amount of tea she'd drank that morning.

"It's going to be ok, Amy. I don't know how, but we're going to be fine."

"What now? I can't…I…" Amy started to wail as she heaved again. "I almost…it has a heartbeat. Oh, God. I almost…"

"Amy, yes, the baby has a heartbeat. He or she has had one for quite a while now. It's what happens when they're developing."

"You were going to let me stop a heart." Amy gasped. "I don't want the baby. I don't. I know that. But I can't kill it, either."

"I know." Sam drew Amy and turned her around, letting the girl curl herself into her neck. "We'll talk to your counselor again. I'll be there this time, Baby. I know you wanted to be by yourself before, and I respected that. But I think that we need some better answers now, ok?" Amy nodded into her shoulder.

"Why did she lie to me? She said it wasn't alive. That it wouldn't feel anything." Sam felt Amy begin to tremble again. "But I can see its head and arms and legs, and," she backed up, looking Sam in the eye. "It was _moving_."

"Yes, it was." Sam smiled softly. "And in a few more weeks, you'll be able to feel those tiny movements, and they'll get stronger and stronger, until you'll wonder why your stomach and bladder are punching bags or dance floors."

"Will it hurt?"

"Nope." Sam reached over and got a wet one from the wall, cleaning Amy's face from her tears. "Won't hurt, but you'll be uncomfortable sometimes, and then you'll have to go to the bathroom in a hurry." A memory swam across her mind. "This one time, your Uncle Ellis didn't want to have to stop for a bathroom, as we were trying to get to town, and we could have stopped in at Sally's. I peed in the truck. Silly baby hit my bladder at the same time as we hit a pot-hole. He never refused to stop for a bathroom break when I was pregnant ever again."

Amy rested on her aunt's shoulder once more.

"I wish I'd never met Darrin."

"But you did, Honey, and this little one will make someone's life so happy."

"Can a baby that starts out like this make anyone happy?" Amy's eyes held a combination of fear and hope.

"Yes, Sweetheart. Every baby can make someone happy." Sam helped Amy dress, and led her from the bathroom into the small exam room once more.

With a nod to Phoebe, they left the quiet halls. Doors were closed, and Amy felt an eeriness she'd not noticed when first entering. It was the same feeling she'd gotten on the day her mother died. She shuddered as the icy fingers of death toyed down her back.

Betrayal. That's what she felt. She'd asked dozens of questions, and felt as if she'd been lied to. She wondered how many other girls made choices, but didn't have anyone to stand with them, like she had her aunt. Did they feel guilt? Did they feel relief? Remorse? On her part, she felt fear of the unknown.

Fear of being made fun of at her new school for being pregnant. Fear of being thought of as a slut. Fear of being labeled. But she also felt relief. Relief that she'd not be killing something.

Perhaps others didn't feel the same way. Perhaps others really believed that…she thought of what she could call the thing. It was a baby to her. It hadn't been earlier that morning, but she was sure of it now. The unwanted group of cells within her had a right to live. Even if she didn't raise the baby, someone was bound to want a baby. After all, An' Sam and Uncle Ellis were a perfect example. They would have loved to have children. Even an adopted one.

With An' Sam at her side, she'd regained a sense of peace. They were at the door, and she was certain that she would never be back to this place again. A large group of people were amassed outside, and she wondered why so many had come. Then she saw the signs. Sam tightened her arms around her niece.

"We'll walk fast, ok? You don't owe them anything. Not an apology, not an "I didn't do it", or even a "Bite me". Ok?" Amy nodded, and wrapped in the security of her aunt's arm, they hurried out the door into the mob of angry protesters.

Shouts rose up as they exited, and the protesters made a hall-like path for them to walk down. All along the way, vile things were shouted at them, with some of the people hurdling pieces of torn apart dolls at the young teen.

"BABY KILLER!"

Amy shuddered. Sam pulled her closer, throwing a nasty look to the woman who threw the accusation. The head of a doll slapped against Amy's own head, and tears filled her eyes. Were people really this hateful?

Accusations of murder kept filling her ears, each one more terrible and demeaning than the last.

"How would you have felt if your mother aborted you? Oh, that's right! She wouldn't have cared, and you'd have just died afraid and alone! I'm so glad you cared so much!"

"You could have given the baby up for adoption! Did you even think about that, you selfish witch?"

"Slut! Only sluts get abortions! Stop sleeping around, and you won't be a murderer again!"

"You'll burn in hell! That's where murderers like you go!"

"If it's a choice, why didn't you ask that baby?"

By now, Amy was sobbing uncontrollably. Her feet were barely making the movement to go one step in front of the other. She didn't want to pick up her head to look at the signs, which brought on more heckling.

"Don't want to look at what you did?" One man blocked their path, forcing a revolting picture of a dismembered fetus in Amy's face. "THIS is what you did! THIS is what happened to that baby! Do you think it didn't feel anything? It was in pain! And it's all your fault!"  
>"Get out of our faces." Sam pushed the picture away. "She could be a rape victim for all you know. Not a whore, not a slut. You and your people are jackasses if you think this is going to make her change her mind on anything. What do you know of what's she's been through?"<p>

Sam's voice rose as she spoke. By the time she was done, voices had settled a bit. They weren't used to having someone talk back to them. People hurried through. Or they asked questions. They didn't argue back. Especially not someone who was defending the offender.

"How dare you!" The man stepped forward, taking hold of Sam's arm, his fingers digging in. "Girls claim to be raped so they can get out of paying for their actions. That's just an excuse. My sister was raped, and she was able to have the baby and give it up for adoption. All rape victims can do the same." He glared at her. "I know you." His eyes narrowed.

###################

Gibbs sat in MTAC, his mind focused for the moment on his conversation with SecNav. The day had turned disastrous early and in a big way. The joint mission with the FBI was blown to pieces by Agent Sacks, of all people.

"What the hell happened, Gibbs?"

"Apparently despite his promises of good behavior and fair play, Sacks decided he didn't like working with DiNozzo. From my conversation with Fornell, and McGee's statement backed it up, I know that Tony was waiting for a sign from inside. Their informant was to move a curtain. Sacks didn't think it was necessary to wait, and took his team in."

SecNav shook his head. What a nightmare.

"How many injured?"

"We lost a total of three agents. Two FBI, and one of ours, Agent Cole. Poor kid's first time out, and he gets caught in the cross-fire. David needed stitches, and DiNozzo is still in surgery. McGee was able to verify only that he was stable, and that the bullet was a through and through."

"Where did it hit him?"

"Left leg. Clipped his femoral artery. They're repairing it now."

"What about FBI casualties?"

"Sacks got most of his men wounded. I don't know the count, but I know from Fornell that the only one to walk away was the asshole."

"I'll be on the phone with the director to ensure proper disciplinary action."

"You do that." Gibbs nodded. "I'm gonna tie into Fornell, and when I see him, Sacks. And the next time we have a joint mission, that idiot had better not be within five miles of the site."

"Go easy on Fornell, Gibbs. He wasn't even there today."

"Doesn't take away his responsibility to train and teach his SFA."

With a nod from SecNav, the screen went black.

Gibbs headed back to his office, intent on finishing what he needed to do before going to the hospital to check on Tony. Before he went though, he'd call. There was no reason to head over if he wasn't out of surgery yet. Yes, Abby would be in a state, but he'd leave her to Ziva and Tim. He needed to get the forms regarding their slain agent done first.

He punched the speaker button on his desk phone, waiting until McGee picked up.

"Hey, Boss."

"How's it going over there?"

"He's still in surgery. Guess they're finishing up the final stitches. A nurse came out a few minutes ago. Said he'd be in recovery in about twenty."

"And Abby?"

"She's calmer now that she knows what's going on. Been a rough afternoon."

"Ya think?" He rubbed his forehead. "How's Ziva?"

"She's alright. Her arm's been finished for nearly an hour. She's sitting with Abby, helping to keep her calm. Pete was in the van, but he's pretty shaken up. He'd been getting to know Cole pretty well. He's not seen…" Tim was quiet for a moment. "They lost another guy from the Fibbies, Gibbs."

"Shit."

"Not sure who. Fornell apparently has Sacks in a room back at their place. I've heard chatter about murder charges."

"More than just chatter, McGee. He pulled a regular foxtrot Charlie. And I'm not going to let him get away with it."

"I think you may be in line behind Fornell, Boss."

"May be, but I'm still gonna get my turn. Cole was one of my men. No one gets my men killed and still has a job."

Gibbs asked to talk to Abby, and after promising to be there as quickly as he could get there, he ended the call. She knew what needed to be done. She'd seen agents get killed before. Gibbs felt sick. Cole was a young kid, fresh out of FLET-C. There was no reason for him to die. With a fist slammed on his desk, he set aside his anger so he could make the call to the young man's widow.

###################

Sam sat with Amy in their car, letting the teen catch her breath before pulling her cell phone out.


	100. Chapter 100

Disclaimer: After 100 chapters, I'll still say it with sorrow… I don't own NCIS. *sigh*

Note: Thanks again to Headbanger Rockstar, my amazing beta!

#######

Sam sat with Amy in their car, letting the teen catch her breath before pulling her cell phone out.

A voice came over the speaker, and Sam spoke curtly.

"I'd like to report an assault." There was a garbled response, followed by Sam giving a description of events, the address where they were, and the descriptions of the men and women who threw things or impeded their ability to leave. The others, unfortunately, were using their right to free speech, no matter how hateful it was.

"Yes, we're safe." Sam listened, nodding slightly as she combed her hair through Amy's hair. "We'll stay, because I'd like to make a report immediately, and yes, I do intend to press charges." There was another garbled response. "Thank you. We'll be here. I'm driving a charcoal gray SUV, license plate ABCD123." With that, Sam hung up, and focused on Amy.

"How are you, Kiddo?"

Amy sniffled. "I'm ok."

"You just had a rough time. A really rough time, especially once we left. I'm not buying the "fine" comment." She tweaked Amy's cheek. "Or should I start calling you DiNozzo?"

The small smirk and chuckle she received in reply let her know that her niece was doing well, considering. She'd hold together until they were home, at least.

Minutes later, the flashing of lights heralded the arrival of the local law enforcement. Sam waited until one group had approached the protestors, and two officers were headed to her car before she opened her door and asked Amy to join her.

"Hi." The tall officer looked down on the two women, compassion on his face. "You've made a complaint about the protest?"

"Yes." Sam nodded. "When we left, following an exam, and not an abortion, not that it matters, but they threw doll parts at my niece, and shoved horrifying pictures in her face. The two I described over the phone tried to stop us from leaving."

"If you'd be willing to write out a report saying just that?"

"Absolutely." She nodded to Amy. "Should she fill one out, too?"

"We'll be waiting for our liaison to arrive from social services." He smiled slightly to Amy. "You said she's 17?"

"Yes."

"We'll wait, then." The two officers stood by the ladies, watching as the protesters were disbanded, and three of them were cuffed and placed in the back of cruisers.

Darcy McKinna pulled into the parking lot and sighed. She hated cases like this. Young girls, already scared, usually hurting, and then they get assaulted on top. Why couldn't some people get it through their thick heads that their morals aren't everyone's?

########

Abby sat by Tony, willing him to wake. He'd been out of surgery for nearly an hour, and yet he hadn't so much as moved a finger or twitched his eyelids to give her a sign that he was going to be alright.

"Hey, Yammers, I need you to wake up, ok?" She stroked her fingers along his arm. "I know you're tired, and that you hurt, but I need you." Abby sniffled. Her eyes grew wide a moment later when she felt his fingers close slightly around hers.

"Come on, Yam, wake up!"

"Hey." His quiet word was the most precious sound she'd heard in ages.

"Tony!" Abby called his name a little louder, and this time, he opened his eyes for a moment, looking confused. His eyes focused on her face, and his mouth quirked into a half-grin before his eyes closed again. Abby hit the call button to let the nurse know he'd woken just as he fell back to sleep.

She watched as the nurse checked Tony's vitals and gave her an update. She was relieved to find out that he was doing better. His heart was strong, he was resting well, and he was stable. Those things were what she'd been waiting to hear since she got the call that he'd been shot.

Abby took his limp hand in hers, letting her mind wander.

"_I'm serious, Tony!" Abby grumbled at her lover. "You've not stopped talking the entire movie, and it's starting to piss me off!"_

"_You know you love me."_

"_Yes, I do, but right now, I wish I had some duct tape." Tony snickered. "Shut it, Yammers." She elbowed him hard. _

"_Yammers?"_

"_Yes." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Cuz you never shut up."_

What she'd give to hear his voice now. She wiped a tear from her eye, grateful that the silence was temporary. Tony moved his head a bit, snuggling down into his pillow as if nothing was wrong in his world before settling down once more, sleeping off the anesthesia.

##########

Carol sighed with relief as she got into the van that would take herself and three other women to a small shopping center along with their therapists. This was a hard won privilege, and she didn't intend to make herself miss a moment of it, or make it seem like she had ulterior motives.

With a sigh of contentment, she sat down at the table with the other ladies. The two therapists exchanged glances, knowing there was more going on in her head than she was sharing, and were wondering if she'd be able to come with them on another excursion soon. Her behavior, while not really odd or threatening, was certainly _very_ un-Carol-like.

"So, ladies," all heads turned to Ruth, the most senior therapist with them. "Let's talk about how it feels to be here." Neither Archie nor Ruth missed Carol's eye roll, even as the other ladies responded with positive comments, eager to speak of how it felt to take this step in recovery from their respective illnesses.

##########

Howard sat behind the wheel of his newly acquired VW van. He didn't really care for the paint job, but his truck had given out, and he needed something a little more "hidden". In other words, somewhere he could keep a body for a few hours if need be.

He was nearing the end of his bloody travels around the nation. Only four more states to go, and then the capital. He smiled to himself, proud that he'd left behind no clues as to who he was, what he was doing, or why he was doing it. Even taunting the authorities hadn't gotten him so much as a parking ticket. He was brilliant. Life was good.

########

Gibbs ran his hand over his tired eyes as he walked out of MTAC. What a day this had been. He'd received word that Tony was going to be fine, but he'd be out on leave for at least 6 weeks, Fornell had lost a grand total of six agents, and Sacks had a list of charges already filed against him, and the bastard had lawyered up faster than a crooked politician.

The worst part of it was that he'd planned on being able to go to the farm after work. Today and tonight was liable to be a mess, and he knew Sam and Joseph were going to have their hands full, and would need support themselves.

He may not agree with Amy's decision, but he'd meant it when he said he'd support her, no matter what, and dammit, he was messing up again, even if it wasn't his fault. Anger at Sacks coursed through him again. Of all the days to totally screw up, this had to be it.

A glance at his watch let him know it was nearly 10PM already. _Shit_._ So much for making it for bedtime, much less dinner._

His humor didn't improve much when he walked by Cynthia's desk. She was still dutifully at her post, taking messages and typing up notes as if she was freshly in the office.

"Go home, Cyn." Her head snapped up. "It's been a long day, and I'm gonna need you to be fresh tomorrow, so we can start working on the paperwork that's bound to pile up with this…mess."

"Yes, Sir." She stood, turning off her computer. "Here's messages for you."

He took them and nodded.

"Sir, if I may?"

"Sure." He held back a yawn the best he could.

"Sam called, and so did Joseph. They said to not bother you, but have asked that I get you to call them as soon as you could."

"Thanks, I planned on calling Sam, but I'm not sure I should." He looked at his watch. "She usually goes to bed early." Cynthia ducked her head a bit.

"Sam told me to tell you _personally_ to ignore the no calls after 9PM rule."

He simply nodded as he walked into his office, his heart heavier than it had been a few minutes ago. Somehow, he'd hoped that perhaps, just perhaps, Amy would change her mind. With a mental shake, he sat at his desk and dialed another number first.

Abby answered her cell seconds after it rang.

"Gibbs!"

"Hey, Abs. Sorry I've not called before."

"It's ok." Her voice was quiet and somewhat sad. "I hear the FBI got hit hard."

"Yeah." He sighed. "Callin' to check on Tony."

"He's doing better." He heard the smile in her voice. "He lost a lot of blood, but they've been giving him fluids, and he was given a transfusion, and he's doing a lot better."

"Good. You tell him to rest, and don't argue with the nurses."

"Yes, Sir."

"Don't call me sir." Gibbs felt a smile crack through his stress.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Smartass."

"And you'd not have me any other way." Gibbs smiled for the first time that day as he agreed with her. They said their goodnights, and he took a deep breath before making his next call.

Three rings, and the line was picked up.

"Jethro!" Sam's voice sounded relieved. "I talked with Abby earlier, and she told me there was something going on, and that Tony was hurt. She didn't say what, but are you ok? I couldn't get ahold of Tim or Ziva…"

"Tony was the only one hurt from our bunch, Sam." He sighed. He should have known she'd be worrying about them. "You called Abby?"

"Yes." Sam took a deep breath. "Amy made a decision today, and she wanted to talk to someone, and since Abby does so much work with the sisters for charity, and troubled teens, and," she drew in another breath, "well, she was the best person to ask."

"Ask what, Sam? I'm kinda lost here."

"Amy didn't get an abortion, Jethro." She finished her sentence, letting her words sink into his tired brain. When she heard his slight sigh, she continued, hoping it had been a sigh of relief. "She'd not paid any attention to anything beyond what she'd _wanted_ to hear, and she'd not asked the right questions, and I'd assumed that with younger sisters, she'd know about babies, and well, during the exam, she heard the baby's heartbeat, and decided to not abort."

"That's," Gibbs felt his eyes grow moist. "That's wonderful. How is she? What's she going to do?"

"Well, we talked with Darcy, and she's the one who suggested we talk with Abby."

"Darcy? Darcy McKennah?"

"Yes! Do you know her?"

"She's a youth advocate, usually only gets involved if there's a crime."

"Well, when we were leaving the clinic, there was a protest going on, and I ended up calling the police."

Gibbs felt anger swell in him again. This time, it was at himself and unknown, unseen attackers.

"Are you two ok? Did you get hurt?"

"We're fine, Jethro." Sam listened more to the silence in the seconds than she did to his actual words. "We're not hurt, just mad at stupid people, and the police did a great job of taking care of the people who were, um, overly zealous."

"I'm sorry."

"Now you listen here, Gunny." He felt his shoulders square for one hell of a talking to. She'd used the "G-word", and that only came out when she was good and angry. He braced himself for the storm to come. "You were _right exactly _where you were supposed to be today, and don't you forget it."

"I should…"

"You should have done your job, and that's exactly what you did, Jethro."

"You're part of my job, too, Sam. You and…" his voice caught. "You and our kids."

"And by doing your job there, you're making sure it's safe for us here." She sighed. "Think about your days at the office like deployment, Gibbs. Can you come home from overseas for everything?"

"No." He was sullen, not wanting to admit that she was right.

"It's the same thing. You are the director of a federal agency. I still don't know everything your job covers, but I know it's a lot. And I know that there are times you can't come home, even when you want to." He started to interrupt her, but she plowed on, as if not knowing that he'd taken a breath to speak. "I explained it to the kids just like that, too, and they may not like it, but they understand it."

"You're too good to me, Sam."

"Nope," He heard the smile in her voice. "Too good, and I'd have made sure you had dinner delivered. You did eat, right?"

"Yeah. But let's talk about Amy." She rolled her eyes, knowing that his not answering was her answer. He'd probably not eaten all day.

"She's scared, but she's agreed to go to a support group for teens. Well, teen moms. Sister Rosa explained that some of the girls have given their babies up for adoption, some have kept them, and some are still pregnant."

"Good. She'll have support from girls her age."

"Yes, and there's therapists who come in to work with them, so it's not just a random chat session."

"Good." He reached into his drawer for the candy bar he'd gotten from the vendor earlier. "Is she sleeping?"

"Yeah, but I think she'd be up for a call tomorrow if you can manage it."

"I'll manage it."

They talked for a while longer, Gibbs venting as much as he could, while Sam listened, wishing she could be there for him. He in turn listened to her talk about Amy, and how she wanted to be ready for any eventuality. He smiled as he heard "Sam" over the phone. Not the Sam that had been frightened by the crap at the farm, or the Sam who was bewildered by the insanity of a large city, but Sam. Calm, rational, has a plan for everything Sam who didn't rest until a job was done and everything was ready.

He chuckled as he realized that she was one of those rare people who, while not liking adversity, grew in it. With any luck, she'd pass that trait onto the younger girls, and maybe, just maybe, Amy would see the benefits of hard work and planning, and the turmoil of her young life could be overcome. With Sam as her guide, Gibbs didn't doubt it.

A few more minutes, and they said their goodnights. With a sigh, Gibbs laid down on the couch in his office, wishing he were at home, where at least he had a comfortable pillow and blanket. He decided those were two items he needed to put on Cynthia's next "shopping list".

#########

It was only eight in the morning when Amy was called to the phone. She stumbled tiredly across the room, not quite awake. She'd slept, but hadn't been peaceful about it.

"Who's it?"

"Just answer it, Sweetie." Amy rolled her eyes as she took the phone from her aunt.

"'lo?"

"Hey, Kiddo." Amy sat down in the corner of the overstuffed couch, pulling her knees up to her chest.

"Hey, Uncle Gibbs." She wiped a tear from her eye.

"How are you?"

"I'm ok."

"You sound tired."

"Yeah, didn't sleep well last night."

"Anything I can do?" Amy drew in a deep, shuttering breath.

"Can you come home?" Her voice broke as she dissolved into tears.

She tried to explain to him that part of her sleeplessness had been because of thinking. Thinking of how he'd been there more in the last two years than her father had tried in her whole life. She thought back over how he'd treated her sisters, and especially how he'd gotten close to Joseph. He'd promised to be there for her, and she found that she wanted that. She needed that.

The thought of trusting a man to be there terrified her, but the broken little girl inside of her heart was screaming for his love. The hardened, rebellious teen was finally ready to give in. She needed her Uncle Gibbs.

"Let me get some things worked out, Sweetie, and I'll see you as soon as I can, ok?" She sniffled and nodded.

"Ok." She passed the phone to Sam, and listened as the two made plans for when he'd come.


	101. Chapter 101

Disclaimer: I still don't own NCIS. I've begged and pleaded, but still no answers. Not even from those tricky Leprechaun's the other day. Oh, well.

Note: Thanks to Headbanger Rockstar, my fabulous beta who's been SO good to me in sticking with me for so long! (and putting up with me on a daily basis, when I'm sure she's wanted to throw me through a window from time to time…)

#########

Over the next three months, Amy attended therapy sessions, went to group, and slowly became more accepting of herself and her previous choices. She wasn't happy that she was pregnant, but with the help of the teens in her group, she'd started dealing with the changes to her body with a little more grace.

Uncle Gibbs was still an enigma, and some days, she loved him, and others, the hormones took over, and he became the focal point of every bit of anger she'd ever had toward her father. The man often rolled his eyes and went out to his workshop, simply getting out of the way until she was over whatever was upsetting her.

Gibbs was spending more time there on the weekends, and the little girls were his constant companions. They were a little confused as to why Mommy and Daddy didn't share a room, but if that's what they wanted, then they'd not complain. It was more fun to wake them up separately, anyway. Amy was a little more standoffish. Except when she needed a scratching post, it seemed.

On the day she entered her third trimester, Sam dropped her off to her group session after school and her appointment with the OBGYN. Everything was looking good, and that was a secret relief to the young mother-to-be. She'd never admit it, but she'd come to be attached to the little interloper she carried.

"How are you, Amy?" Sister Andrea smiled at her as she entered.

"I'm good, and so is the peanut."

"Good. I'm so glad to hear it." The nun's smile was contagious. "Are you ready for our movie night?"

"Yep!" They'd never watched a movie before in group, and her interest was piqued.

Riding in Cars With Boys began, and she sat mesmerized as Drew Barrymore went through everything she was going through. She watched as Beverly fought obstacle after obstacle to chase her dreams. For the first time, she began to see how her life didn't need to be run forever by the mistakes of yesterday.

When Gibbs picked her up on his way out to the farm, she was chatty with her plans for the future. He listened, somewhat amused and also pleased that she'd suddenly walked into this world of understanding. He had no idea who Beverly Donofrio was, but if she could help this much, then great.

###########

Howard walked into the bar, coughing slightly in the smoky atmosphere. He grimaced to himself, wondering if he'd ever get used to other people's smoke. He didn't mind his own.

Towards the back of the bar, he noticed a man dressed to kill. Howard smiled evilly to himself. The guy was surrounded by men, who were obviously trying to score. He wondered if he'd be able to win the jackpot and take that fine body home if he played the game a little differently. Sitting down, he watched men get shot down one after another. He wondered what the men said. To his amusement, not a single woman even tried. The man had obviously been here before, and everyone knew it. Perhaps the only ammunition he'd need was his own novelty.

He asked what the man had previously ordered, and asked for a drink that was similar, but not the same. Armed with two of his chosen drink, he walked slowly across the bar, smiling at men and women equally as he crossed the room.

"Hey." He slid into the empty booth across from the handsome man.

"Hello." The smooth English accent went straight to Howard's groin. Oh, he _had_ to get this man out of here.

"I'm Howard." He tipped his head, making no effort to hide his interest.

"Trent." He smirked. This guy was new. Perhaps he'd be a fun time. He turned on the charm, not knowing he was playing right into his killer's hands.

###############

That night, Amy woke screaming. Jethro and Sam jolted awake to her screams, both of them racing down the hall to her room. They met up outside her door, and Gibbs nodded for Sam to go in first. Amy lay pressed back against the wall, her hands and feet kicking at some unseen enemy.

"Amy!" Sam started talking to her niece while Gibbs turned on the light. The girl finally woke, shaking. Tears ran down her face, and she sank willingly into her aunt's arms. When Gibbs sat on the side of her bed, she gasped and drew her feet up and away from him.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"That's what he said, too." Amy shuddered through her tears. "He promised to keep me safe. And then they…" She broke off, sobbing. Gibbs started to stand, giving his girls space. He wasn't sure he could handle what was coming next. He already felt sick. "No, Uncle Gibbs! Don't leave me alone. Please." She clutched at her stomach. "Don't leave me alone."

"Never, baby girl." His voice was quiet. "Do you hurt?" She shook her head. "Are you sure? You're holding the baby pretty tight there."

"It's scared." Sam made the sign for call. Amy was cramping whether she realized it or not.

"What happened, Honey?" When Amy was involved with the retelling the horrors of her nightmare, Gibbs stepped out to call for an ambulance. He didn't think she was in labor, but much more, and her body would demand it. He ran downstairs to open gates for the rescue squad, and breathed a sigh of relief when he heard their sirens.

Amy was given sedatives that wouldn't harm her or the baby. Her mild contractions stopped, and she'd fallen into a restless sleep. Gibbs had waited at the farm until Tony and Abby arrived to stay with the girls. He'd hurried down the near-silent hospital halls to Amy's room, breathing a sigh of relief when Sam met him just outside of her door and told him that everything was fine.

He ran a hand over his face. He pulled Sam into a tight embrace, feeling as if his heart was still pounding out of his chest. Only a few minutes later, the nurses stepped into the hall, telling them that Amy wanted to see them now.

"You stepped out and you didn't need to?"

"She wanted me to, Gibbs. She's so…"

"If that's what she wanted." He took Sam's hand and walked into the room.

Amy was still sobbing heartbrokenly, her words barely intelligible. The only think Sam could make out was a mixed-language "I don't know what to do."

The three of them cried together for a bit before Sam returned to the conversation about the baby.

"Amy, you don't need to make any decisions, Sweetheart, at least not today, but you have so many options, and I'd like you to start thinking about it."

"Like what? Keeping it or keeping it?"

"No," Sam rubbed her shoulder. "You can give him or her up for adoption, or you can raise him or her."

Gibbs cleared his throat, and Amy looked up at him.

"Your aunt and I talked about another option, too, Amy."

"What's that?"

"If you want, we can raise the baby, just like we're raising your sisters."

"You'd do that?"

"Sweetie, if you think you want to do that, yes."

Amy took a few days to think over her options. One thing she was certain of was that she wasn't willing to be a mom yet. She was curious to find out what kind of person the baby she carried grew into, but she didn't want to be responsible for him or her.

Giving the baby up for adoption seemed like a good idea. She'd taken a long time in deciding, and her aunt, ever the planner, had begun to set up a nursery, "just in case". Sam had stopped buying things for the baby finally, and that was a relief to her. Amy walked up to her room and decided to stop in what would have been the nursery one more time.

Tears filled her eyes. She'd avoided the room the past couple of months, letting her aunt and uncle deal with getting it ready, because she'd still not made up her mind. Amy hadn't known that it was already painted with cartoonish animals in jungle scenes on the walls. She'd known Uncle Jethro was making furniture, but she'd not realized it was already finished.

There was so much love in this room, and it wasn't even for a child that would be theirs. She put her hand over her womb, wondering if she'd be alright seeing the baby every day, knowing it was really hers, but not hers. So many decisions, and her time was running out.

#############################################

Gibbs' heart chilled as he got the call from Tobias. One of their long-standing, albeit disliked associates had been found murdered not five miles out of DC. His body, or what was left of it, was found in a bank-repossessed house that no real-estate agents had shown in the last few months. Were it not for the foul smell of his decomposition, he would still be undiscovered.

Less than 5 minutes after he was off of the phone, he had every one of his subordinates in the squad room. He stood on the mezzanine halfway between the two floors. He related with nearly-cold articulation what had been discovered only that morning, and the steps everyone needed to take to keep themselves, and their families, safe.

Quiet murmuring ran through their ranks as the agents and many other employees of the federal agency listened on in horror. If a man from the CIA could be killed, dismembered, and dumped with a taunting note left at the scene of the crime, then the killer was capable of anything.

The meeting was at an end, and Gibbs sat in his office, fear clutching his heart. His girls were at school. They weren't at the farm with the security system that he was so certain about. He had no clue about where Sam was. Was she out grocery shopping, or maybe having lunch with the girls at school? He looked at the clock. Lunch was over for them. So she wasn't there. _Ah, hell._ He picked up his phone.

"Hey!" Sam answered on the first ring, and he felt himself settle a bit.

"Sam, got bad news." His voice was distant.

"What's going on?"

"The serial killer they've talked about on the news?"

"Yeah?" She stopped folding laundry.

"Kort was his latest victim."

"Kort?" Sam wracked her brain, trying to think of who he or she was.

"Yeah, CIA agent. He was a pain in the ass, but a good man. LEO's found his body this morning. Been dead about a week." Sam gasped, keeping quiet as Gibbs vented his fears and frustrations.

She agreed to go pick the girls up from school, and agreed that on the weekend, they'd not do anything unless he was with them. She didn't want to rub shoulders with the crazy person, anyway. She'd had enough of that already.

That night, the littlest three giggled and danced around as Gibbs moved into the spare room upstairs. He and Sam had been turning it into a nursery in case Amy decided to keep the baby, but now it sported a twin bed and a new dresser that would hold enough clothing for a week.

Amy just rolled her eyes. So much for her aunt following her own rule about him not moving back in yet. The security around this place was tight enough to keep anyone safe. She was sure Gibbs was just looking for a reason, and An' Sam was letting him get away with it.

############

Carol caught the bus in front of the institution, just as she was permitted to do. This was her first solo outing, and she was allowed two hours of freedom. Little did they know that she had no intention of ever returning from her "therapy" trip.

She arrived at Gibbs house and stared at it for a moment, thinking through her plan once more. She hoped Sam was home. A shadow inside looked like it could belong to someone, and she hoped it was Sam. Carol scoffed and rolled up the newspaper and thin strips of cardboard she'd brought with her. She stuffed it into the dryer vent that looked as though it hadn't been cleaned since his wife died.

"Hope you and his wife get along, Bitch. You're going to meet her soon enough."

With a smile full of malice and hate, she flicked her lighter. The paper ignited, and Carol stayed hidden just to be sure the lint in the vent caught fire. The satisfying "foomp" of the growing inferno sent her on her way with a smile.

#####################################

Sam smiled as she flipped a pancake. Above her, she could hear tiny feet running down the hall, followed by an irritated, "Get out of my room" from Amy. Gibbs shot her a grin as he flipped the page in his paper.

"You sure you wanted to be here this morning?" Gibbs chuckled.

"Told you, I wanted to take the girls out for a while today. Show them some of the sights."

"I don't get why you say I can't come." Gibbs winked at her, hoping he hadn't flushed with the action.

"Cuz I want some Daddy time, and that's just that." When she rolled her eyes, he came and stood behind her, his hands on her hips, whispering in her ear until Amy's voice interrupted them.

"Seriously, you two, get a room."

#####################################

Sylvia was walking her dog down a new street in her neighborhood. The houses were well tended, and several of them had beautifully manicured lawns. She smelled smoke, and her teacup poodle danced and pranced, as if trying to tell her something was wrong.

"It's just someone firing up the bar-b-cue, Sweet Pea." Just as she finished speaking, a flame shot out from the wall of the house she had been admiring. Within seconds, she had her phone to her ear, dialing 9-1-1. She rattled off the address on the mailbox, double-checking the street. As she spoke with the dispatcher, flames engulfed the house, as if the fire had been hiding within the walls and waiting for a chance to devour the home.

She stood back with wide eyes as the rescue and fire departments arrived. They asked if she knew if there was anyone in the house, and she had to admit that she didn't have a clue. She'd not seen anyone, but she'd only just been walking by.

The police took her information, asking if she was willing to answer more questions later. She said that she certainly would, but that she'd not seen anything more than she'd already told them. With an offer for a ride home, Sylvia was released to go home.

"I'd like a ride." Her voice was shaking, as the reality of a family losing their home crashed down on her.

###################################

Gibbs stood with his four "daughters" at the counter of Baskin Robbins, laughing as the girls tried to figure out what flavors to have. Amy was the first to decide, and she went with a full banana split. He grinned at her, teasing her slightly about how the acid would get her later.

"Shut it, Uncle Gibbs." Amy glowered for all of three seconds when her stomach visibly moved, making Allie giggle and pat her tummy.

"The baby's hungry, Uncle Gibbs." Her innocent eyes had every adult in hearing distance laughing.

Once they had all ordered, he led them to a corner table, where he proceeded to ask them a question he never thought he'd find himself asking.

"So, girls, I'm in love with your Aunt Sam, well, Mommy. I think you know that." Four heads nodded, their eyes getting bigger. "Well, I'd like to marry her. Can I be part of your family forever?" Three squeals echoed from the walls, while one glare turned to a slow nod after a few moments.

"You're not thinking it's a good idea, Amy?"

"I'm not sure." She sighed as she put her hands over her stomach. "What's going to happen to my sisters? What happens when you get bored from playing Weekend Daddy?"

"Amy, I promise that I'm not playing Weekend Daddy, and I never will." He reached across the table and took her hand, holding it lightly. "If you really don't want me to marry your aunt, then tell me. But I'm here for the long haul, Amy. I'm not here for this year, or for the next five. I'm here forever."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

######################################

As Carol stood at the bus stop, waiting for a ride to carry her to the heart of DC and the major hub of transportation, Howard was looking for a way to end his boredom. To his delight, she was waiting on the side of the road.

"Hey, pretty lady." He smiled as he leaned across the passenger side of his van. "Want a ride?"

"Sure." She flirted back, climbing quickly into the vehicle. Rides were great, free ones were even better.

"So, you don't sound like you're from the east coast." Carol smiled broadly as she spoke. "Where are you from?"

"Oklahoma, originally." The man let a pleasant drawl come out in his tone. "My name is Howard." He shrugged. "I've just been driving around, taking a tour of our great nation, working when and where I've wanted."

"That's wonderful." She batted her eyes flirtatiously. "So what do you do?" His smile grew.

"I do a little construction, a little hunting, a little of this, a little of that."

####################################

After a somewhat frustrating trip to the local jewelers, Gibbs and the girls were headed back to the farm for Sam. The little ones had begged to help pick out Sam's ring, and Amy had decided that her uncle needed all the help he could get, and that translated into a trip to get what he'd wanted to pick out on his own. However, since he was marrying a woman with a ready-made family, he figured he'd better start off on the right foot and not screw up the most important part of his hoped-for future.

It didn't take long for them to get back to the farm, where Sam was dressed and ready to go. She climbed in the suburban once Amy moved to the back, and they were off.

"So what are we doing?"

"We're having a family day." Gibbs smiled and took her hand. Giggles sounded from the backseat, and Sam looked over her shoulder.

"What's got you three so happy?" Allie, Alex, and Acheflow just giggled all the harder, and Amy couldn't hide her grin when Sam raised her eyebrow. "Alright, what's going on?"

"What, can't we just spend a day together?" Laughter rang out from the back seats as Sam gave in, and stopped asking questions. She knew when to give up.

Gibbs pulled into the Washington Mall, and the girls looked out of the windows, all of them excited at the sprawling lawns and interesting monuments. Sam helped the girls out of the car, giving them instructions to stay close to her and Daddy, and then they headed across the parking lot.

Several times, the little ones tugged at Gibbs' hand, and he bent every time, shaking his head no to each whispered question. Little Alex finally stomped her feet, her face a pure mask of consternation.

"You p'mised, Daddy." Her lip pouted out.

"Fine." Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Are all of you going to keep pestering me?"

"Yes!" Came from four girls, and Sam laughed at the hounded man.

"I'm thinking that before you become the most unpopular man of the day, that you follow through on whatever it was you promised them."

"Guess I'd better." Gibbs smirked as he knelt before Sam, his knee creaking as he went. "Sam, I know we talked about getting married when we felt the time was right, and maybe I'm pushing it, but I want to ask you to marry me. I love you, I love our kids, every last one of them, and I, aw, hell. I'm messing this up."

"Awwwww!" Allie clapped her hands in front of her mouth. "Daddy said a bad word!"

"Yes, I did. I'm sorry." He tapped the little one on the nose.

"Sam, will you marry me?"

For a moment, he thought he'd said the wrong thing, for her hand flew to her mouth, an action he'd not seen since the night her farm was attacked.

He glanced nervously over to the girls, all of whom seemed just as worried as he was. They'd jabbered on and on about how they knew, just like in fairy tales, she was in love with him. She had to be, after all. She was their new mommy, and he was their new daddy. His heart sank with each passing second.

After what seemed to be an eternity, Sam nodded. She took her hand from her mouth, and asked, in a tremulous voice, "Are you sure?"

That wasn't what he was expecting at all, and a short bark of laughter caught even him by surprise.

"Yes, I'm sure." He smirked as he drew the ring from his pocket. "I'm sure I'm not rushing things, at least not on my end, and I'm sure that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So yes, I'm sure."

As he stood, he took her hand. "So what do you say?"

"I need to ask the kids, make sure..."

"Mommy!" Allie rolled her eyes and flung her arms wide in disbelief. "He asked us already! Just say yes, so we can go play!"

Sam looked at her girls, her eyes wide. All of them were nodding, grinning. She narrowed her eyes at them. "You didn't go for ice cream, did you?"

"Yes, we did." Amy huffed in impatience. "We had ice cream, and then we went to the jewelers. He wanted us to have a part in picking your ring. Something about wanting to keep us included in every step of the way, but if you don't mind, I'm gonna take the little ones over there," here she motioned to some unknown area, "while you two do your thing. Not really into the moment after Prince Charming finds the princess."

Gibbs glared at her, but Acheflow giggled.

"Yeah. It's gross when you kiss." She held her hands in front of her face, prompting Alex to do the same. Allie just stared at them.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Sam asked her so far quiet niece.

"Say yes! Please, Mommy? Can Daddy keep being our Daddy?"

Sam shook her head. She'd planned on saying yes anyway, and her hanging on now was just to tease them all. "Well, since it seems you've all made up my mind for me, yes." She met Gibbs' gaze. "I will marry you."

Jethro felt his face nearly split from the smile that seemed to radiate out from somewhere in his chest. He leaned in to kiss his fiancé to a chorus of "ew's" from their girls.

His phone rang.

"Dammit."

Sam laughed.

"Business first, Director."

"Thank God." Amy grabbed Allie and Alex, and lead them a "safe" distance away.

"Gibbs."

Sam winced as his hand tightened around hers, almost painfully.

"I'll be there in 20."

"Where are we going?"

He looked past her, drawing in a deep breath.

"My house. Come on, let's get the girls."

"Gibbs, what's wrong? Tell me, before we get them. Something is wrong. Do we need to stay here?"

"No." His expression was shattered. "That was the police. Someone set fire to my house."

"Girls!" Sam's voice carried an urgency that Gibbs couldn't bring himself to show.

He wanted to run, to be alone, to be anywhere but here. However, he was part of a family, and that family needed him. Truthfully, he needed them, also, even if it was hard to admit through the current pain.

"We need to go! Get over to the car, please."

Confused looks were all the argument the adults received as they piled back into Sam's new SUV.

Gibbs drove faster than he ever had with the girls in the car, yet he was careful to never be unsafe. He wasn't sure that Sam would forgive him for breaking traffic laws, and her white knuckles on the edge of her seat kept him in line. For a moment, he wished the girls weren't in the car. As quickly as that thought passed his brain, it was gone. They were with him, and that meant they were safe.

Gibbs stood staring at the carnage before him. The only things standing were the bricks that supported the porch. Everything else had been destroyed by either the fire or the pressure of the water still coming from the hoses. In the car, Sam sat with the girls, shushing the youngest two.

Their Daddy had been shaking by the time they arrived, and they'd felt his nervousness. That energy, coupled with the rising smoke, made for a fearsome experience.

"Take the girls to the Yard." Gibbs spoke, even as he opened Sam's door. "They don't need to breathe this in."

"We can go back to the farm, Jethro."

"No." The command in his voice was unmistakable. "I want to know you're safe. Go to the Yard, and wait for me." He pecked her forehead almost as an afterthought. "Gotta call DiNozzo, get him down here to secure the scene."

"Shouldn't you go with us?" Sam's voice was soft.

"No." Gibbs looked back at his home of 25 years. "Not yet. I..." He closed his eyes for a moment. "I can't. Not yet." She rested a hand on his arm for a moment, nodding her understanding before climbing into the drivers' seat. He'd walked with her, and held the door for just a moment. "Be safe, ok? I love you." He looked into the back seats, nodding. "Take care. I love all of you." He shut Sam's door with more force than was necessary, shocking the girls into silence.

"Is Daddy mad?" Allie wiped at her eyes.

"No, Baby. He's not mad. He's just got to say good-bye."

"Like we had to say good-bye to our old house?"

"Sort of. He's got a lot of memories there that aren't going to be waiting for him anymore." Silence filled the car as she drove carefully to the Navy Yard. She showed her ID at the gate, and told them why she was there.

Tony and his team had already left, and word had spread through the yard of Director Gibbs' house burning. In the lobby, Sam and the girls were met by Ducky and Abby. Visitor passes were handed to each of them, and a somber procession headed to the elevators and the deep, protected inner sanctum of NCIS.


	102. Chapter 102

Disclaimer: Don't own NCIS.

Note: Thanks to my awesome beta, Headbanger Rockstar!

############

Howard had driven for about an hour before he pulled into a small diner that seemed fairly slow. They needed to eat, and he wanted to scope out his new companion. She was a fascinating study: the more questions he asked, the more he had. She had done something; that much he was certain of. He was also fairly well certain she was hiding from the law, due to her habit of tensing every time they passed a cruiser. His biggest question now, was if she was a fit partner, or if she was simply prey.

Once they were seated inside, he began trying to draw her out a little more subtly than he'd attempted in the car.

"Any favorites on the menu?" He smiled at her as he cracked open his menu.

"No, I've never been here before."

"Well, that's good, cuz neither have I." He winked as he lowered his gaze to peruse the few items. There weren't many to choose from.

He saw out of the corner of his eye as her eyes lit up.

"See something you like?"

"Yes." She smiled back at him. "New York cheese cake. Just the thought of it makes my mouth water."

"Been a while since you had it?" Carol shrugged in response. "Come on, just tell me, and then you can relax." He grinned as he leaned forward. "Tell me, or I'll guess. And believe me, I'll guess all sorts of rotten things."

"You would, too." Carol blushed a bit, giving in to the charm the man oozed.

"Yep, so may as well open up. Once you do, you'll feel a lot better, trust me." He sat back, his smile never faltering.

"I was working for a news station, and I, well, I had a career opportunity, and I took it." She rolled her eyes. "Let's just say that my boss didn't appreciate it."

"Blowing a corporate whistle?"

"Nope." Carol sat back, folding her hands on the table before her. "I blew the whistle on a goat farmer in the middle of nowhere. Turns out she was dating some federal agent, and instead of getting promoted as I should have been, I was fired, jailed, and have to make "restitution." As she said the last word, she made the air quotes, her expression sour.

"What sort of restitution?"

"I'm supposed to pay for her fucking animals, and wages she lost." Carol sneered. "She moved because I showed her to be what she was, and I got stuck with the bill." A rather unlady-like snort left her nose. "That's what happens to honest people, I guess."

Howard nodded sympathetically. "I've seen it happen before. The guilty go free, and the innocent pay."

"You've seen it before?" Her eyes widened. "What happened? How did the people handle it?"

Howard smiled. He'd found her weakness as well as her story. Once he knew more, he'd know exactly where she'd fit into his plans. He hoped she was as…devoted… to her cause as he was. He liked her.

He began to tell his own story. As she listened sympathetically, he spun a tale of woe, beginning with the unfair theft of his trust fund. By the time he reached the present day, leaving out several murders, of course, she was in such a state of emotion over his story, that he knew he had her hooked.

Now he just needed to reel her in the rest of the way.

"So, you just got out of jail." He leveled his gaze at her. She nodded. "Question."

"Ok?"

"You don't smoke, at least I'm assuming you don't, because you refused a cigarette in the car," Carol nodded, and Howard continued. "Makes me wonder why you smell like smoke?" His eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward. "Get a little of your own back?"

#############

Another month passed and Amy woke with a back ache. She was grumpier than usual, even screaming at Sam for burning her breakfast toast. When she raised her hand to slap Allie, Sam sent her to her room. Amy flipped her off and lumbered up the stairs, stopping half way up.

"Honey, are you ok?"

"No!" Amy screamed. "I hurt, and I'm angry, and I want to be left the hell alone! Why can't you understand that?" Sam slowly climbed the stairs.

"Where do you hurt, Amy?"

"My back and belly." She looked at her aunt warily. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking you're 36 weeks, and that you're having this baby."

"Oh, God. I'm supposed to go to the movies with Marie tonight."

"Not if you're pushing out a baby." Sam smiled patiently. "Why don't we just go get you checked out, ok?"

"If I go, will you leave me alone afterwards?"

"I promise." She sent a text to Gibbs, and he waited as calmly as he could until he had an update. When Sam called, a smile broke out on his face.

He was in a meeting with SecNav, and his superior asked him why the smile after a day of grumbling.

"My niece is having her baby."

"One of the ones Sam has?"

"Amy." His face brightened. "She's decided she's not ready to be a mom, but we don't know yet if she's giving him up or if he'll be…" His eyes suddenly flew open wide. "She's having her baby. I gotta get to the hospital."

"Then why are you still here?" SecNav grinned.

Gibbs broke more traffic laws than he cared to admit as he drove across town. Paul looked over at him from his seat in the passenger side.

"Want me to drive?" A glare was Gibbs' only response.

########

Amy delivered a 5 pound 21 inch long boy ten hours later. She heard his cry and knew what she wanted for him. She wanted him to be loved, she wanted him safe, and she wanted to see how he would grow up. She told her aunt, and the older woman whispered a prayer of thanks.

Gibbs and Sam asked if she'd like to help them name him, and she nodded. Sam knew she had a name that she'd loved, but was curious if she'd admit it. It was a good name, and Sam liked it, which made it easier to let Amy choose. Gibbs had already said that he felt Amy should name him if she wanted.

"Wynn."

"What about a middle name?" Amy rolled her eyes.

"Joseph."

"Your brother will like that." Amy shrugged. Her last few conversations with her brother hadn't been the best they'd ever had. He was frustrated with her choices, and she was frustrated with him trying to make her grow up.

When she was asleep, Sam and Gibbs discussed the baby's name, and they decided that yes, Wynn Joseph fit the little bundle. Gibbs asked nervously if he could adopt Wynn as well. Sam smiled at him, thinking of how he was more nervous now than he'd been when he proposed.

"I thought that was understood." Sam kissed him softly. "He couldn't get a better Daddy." Gibbs fought back his whoop of joy.

Later in the evening, he bid his family goodbye and headed home to get the nursery finished. He needed to double check the crib, and the zoo decals were only partially finished. Gibbs chuckled at himself. In truth, they were fine. He was just determined that everything would be perfect for his son.

The girls came into the nursery, and he stopped working to play with them for a bit. When Abby stood in the door, ready to shoo them back downstairs, Gibbs waved her away. They needed to know how important they were, and always would be.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah?" The girls had gone from playful to sorrowful in a matter of moments. "What's wrong?"

"Now that Amy had her baby, will we have to go away?"

"No!" He pulled them close and answered question after question regarding his and Sam's upcoming marriage and where babies came from, and why Amy was choosing to have Aunt Sam adopt little baby Wynn, and why Gibbs was going to adopt him, too.

The question that made his heart flutter was the quiet, shaky voiced query of, "Will you 'dopt us, too? Or do we stay 'lone?" He pulled Acheflow into his lap and cuddled with her, promising her that he'd talk to their Aunt about it, but even if they didn't adopt the girls, they'd never be alone.


	103. Chapter 103

Disclaimer: Don't own it. And once again, it's still AU, and OOC, and that's not gonna change.

Note: Special thanks to my awesome beta, Headbanger Rockstar!

Note: Sorry this has taken me so long to write. The story still isn't done. It will be one day, I promise. I became ill again, and am struggling my way back up. I'll update as I can, but I can't promise to be timely. Thanks for understanding, and for sticking with me for so many chapters.

############

Gibbs stayed at the house with the little ones while Sam spent the night at the hospital. She'd called, asking him to check on the diaper and wipe supply. He smirked and told her that they'd already done that a dozen times, and if they didn't have something, it wasn't going to get got. He could see her rolling her eyes in his mind. The visual made him grin.

She called when she was on her way home, asking if she should bring breakfast.

"The girls aren't up, Sam."

"I know. I meant, should I bring something like doughnuts?"

"Nope." He winced as he shut his thumb in a drawer. "Sugar after yesterday?"

"You're right." Sam sighed.

"How's Amy?"

"She's sleeping. I'm coming home for a shower, and to get some of her clothes. She'll be wanting something comfy. I'm gonna get her a bag with a couple pairs of sweats."

"Sounds good." Sam heard another noise, and curiosity won.

"What are you doing?"

"Rearranging drawers. Getting the onsies in a drawer by themselves. Figure it'll be easier."

"You're funny, you know that?"  
>"Anything to make you smile."<p>

He was nearly finished when Sam came in with a cup of coffee. He took it and drained it in one long draught before asking her for a refill. Handing over her cup, she headed back to the kitchen. He joined her not long after.

"Didn't sleep last night?"

"Not really." He kissed her good morning. "Had a lot on my mind."

"Care to share?"

"The girls asked me last night if we'd adopt them, too, or if they'd be alone."

"What did you say?"

"That I'd ask you." Sam chuckled.

"I'd love to adopt them. I wasn't sure if they'd want…"

"Oh, they want."

"Will you be adopting them, too?"

"I'd like to." He smiled. "I'd really like to." A quiet yawn broke into their conversation.

"Good morning, sweetie."

######################################

Amy and Wynn were ready to come home the next afternoon. Amy had already written out a note giving her aunt full custody, and Gibbs had one of the ladies from legal come over to notarize it on her lunch break. She congratulated the family, and accepted the job of pushing through the adoptions of the children, promising to keep it quiet.

That night was interesting. The girls were fascinated with their baby brother. The family had discussed adoptions, and Amy asked if she could think about it for a while. Sam told her she could have as long as she needed. Joseph had said the same. He was flattered by the offer, but wasn't sure he was ready or willing to say goodbye to his parents that completely. His eyes had moistened when Sam told him that no matter what he chose, he had a home with them any time he needed it, and that would never change. Gibbs joined in, adding that he would respect whatever decision Joseph chose. No matter what paper said, Joseph was one of his kids.

###################################

Wynn slept most of the time, seeming to come awake only for food or diapers. Amy seemed afraid of him, which concerned the adults a bit, but she was tired, nervous, and wondering if she'd made the right decisions. After a good night's sleep, she decided that she had.

A week passed, and the family had settled into a peaceful rhythm. Gibbs was leaving for work in the morning after the girls were ready for school, Amy's at-home tutor would arrive shortly after, and Sam had her day free with the baby, as she'd get chores finished before Gibbs left for the day.

He'd arrive home around seven, and they'd sit down to a late dinner. Amy was getting more confident and comfortable with Wynn. While she had no desire to claim him as hers, or raise him, or even spend hours at a time with him, she was content to help with him.

Sam felt relief that she didn't know she needed when Amy settled into a comfortable routine. With all of the upset in the family, she'd not noticed just how out of sync her niece was. Yes, she'd been a pregnant teen, and lost in a sea of hormones and doubt, but Sam realized how much more there was in the undercurrent of Amy's young life. She began to wonder what she could do to help Amy to a successful future.

##########

Nearly three months after Jethro's house burned to the ground, he finally had the time to sort through the few boxes that had been salvaged from his back-yard storage shed and the remains of his garage. Sam had told the team to bring his things to the farm when all of it had been filed and sorted, and was no longer needed for evidence.

He walked into the shed where his things had been carefully piled, and blew out a breath. This was it. He knew a lot of it would have to go. Even months later, the smell of smoke clung on to much of it. A single tear stood in his eye for a moment before he brushed it away. He could do this.

A memory swept over him suddenly, and he was caught up in it, as if he was back in his basement. He could feel the sanding block in his hand, and nearly smell the fine dust his sandpaper made. Sam's voice sounded in his ear, and he smiled. He understood now. He thought he had before, but he really got it now.

_"Now, I want you to remember a time with Shannon and Kelly." She felt him tense, and knew he was remembering when Kelly begged him to not leave._

_"Don't think about her begging you, Jethro." She sighed and stroked along his spine. "Think of some happy time. Perhaps a picnic, or maybe a holiday, or maybe even a time when you cuddled with them in bed." She felt him relax a bit. "And when you find a memory, tell me about it."_

_"We decided to go to the beach for the weekend." He sighed. "It was Sunday morning, and we had breakfast out on the patio." His arms tightened around Sam, and he ran his fingers along the seam on the cowl of her shirt. "Kelly was laughing, asking if we'd have a new baby since we were on vacation and staying in a new house." She felt him smile as he lay his head on hers. "We asked her why she thought that, and she'd heard one of Shannon's friends talking about moving, and how she was ready for another baby." Sam chuckled, and Gibbs continued. "She'd said the old phrase of "new house, new baby", and thought that since we were in a new house for vacation, that we were going to have a new baby. As in we were going to go pick one out, like we'd picked out a puppy."_

_"What did you tell her?"_

_"That if Mommy and I decided to have another baby, then we'd have one the same way we had her." He laughed softly. "She was so upset. She hoped to have a baby brother by the time we went home."_

_"She sounds adorable."_

_"She was." He sighed. "She and her mother were…beautiful. Inside and out."_

_"That's a wonderful memory, Gibbs." She paused a moment. "I want you to remember everything you can about that morning. The wind, the sun, bird calls, everything that was there." She felt him begin to breathe deeply, pulling himself inward to remember._

_"Wow. It's like I'm there almost." He spoke after several minutes of soaking in the memory._

_"Perfect, stay there, ok?"_

_"Yeah." He sighed. "I can do that."_

_"Good. Can you feel their love?"_

_"Yes. I can."_

_"This is where they live, Jethro. Even if you forget everything else, this is where they are. They'll be waiting for you at that table every time you walk out of the house to sit with them."_

_"Why do I want them there?" She felt him tensing again._

_"Because even when you feel that you're ready to move on, they'll be there. That won't change. And when you can't pull up the memory? You can still remember the feeling of their love. You'll never lose them, Jethro. They're there. And they're not going to leave, and you're not going to leave them._

_"The important things aren't her perfume, or how many times she brushed her hair in the mornings." Sam cleared her throat. "The important thing is the love they felt for you, and the love you have for them. Remembering that will help you move on."_

With a resolve he'd not felt only minutes before, Gibbs moved toward the first box. Yes, this would be painful at times, but Sam had indeed shown him how to move on, and he'd been working on it. He'd "visited" his girls in his memory, and had been surprised at how he no longer felt the crippling pain of their deaths. He missed them, and he knew he always would. But he was learning to live again. This was just another step, perhaps a painful one, but it was another step towards a new life. A new life that he wanted.


	104. Chapter 104

Disclaimer: Still don't own it.

Note: Thanks to my wonderful beta, Headbanger Rockstar!

And another one: Hard to believe, but this is the next to last chapter! There's an epilogue coming. THANK YOU for being patient. My brain is coming along slow but sure. Slowly more than surely, but it's getting there. *silly grin* THANK you for everyone who has read and kept going with me. THIS CHAPTER HAS GRAPHIC VIOLENCE AS WELL AS GRAPHIC "ADULT RELATIONS". You are warned. This chapter is M for a reason…

################

Howard stared down at the paper before him, unsure of his next move, perhaps for the first time since he'd started on his whole adventure. Killing the CIA agent hadn't been in his plans yet, but it had happened. He'd been thrilled that they had gathered evidence of him through all of the states, but now he began to see the trap he'd built for himself. He was stuck.

"What're you looking so forlornly at?" Carol sat beside him at the kitchenette bench. Her fingers ran through his hair. "I thought you'd be happier this morning." She pressed a nipping kiss to his ear.

"Oh, I'm plenty happy with last night and this morning, trust me." He turned playful eyes to her. "I'm just disgusted with what the world is coming to."

"That serial killer?" Carol ran her hand down Howard's back, stopping at the elastic of his boxers. "People like him are sick." She shook her head. "Sociopaths, and they need to be stopped."

He chuckled as he turned, drawing her onto his lap, her legs over his thighs.

"Dangerous people like you, huh? Whistle-blowers, truth-tellers?" He pulled her close, nuzzling her naked breasts as he spoke.

"Yes." Her admission came as a gasp. He bit her hard, nearly drawing blood.

"Like that?" She quirked an eyebrow, smiling as she stood, pulling him up with her.

"You know I like pain, Baby." She nipped his chin. "Think we got that clear last night." She turned, giving him a full view of the criss-crossed welt pattern he'd given her with his belt. "Feels so good. Turns me on."

"Then let me show you some new ways for pain, Darlin'." He threw her down onto the bed. She laughed and spread her arms and legs out for him, as he instructed her to do. When he started with the duct tape, she worried a bit.

"That's gonna take off some skin if you leave it on too long, Howard."

"Do you trust me or not?"

"I trust you." She lay her head back, enjoying the sensation of being controlled and kissed all at the same time. She barely noticed when he finished taping her last limb down, and it wasn't until he began to tape her mouth that she protested.

"Stay calm and trust me." His voice dripped honey. "You know I'm gonna take you places you've never been. Show you pain you didn't know existed." He bit the inside of her thigh hard enough to draw blood. "And no one will hear you." He looked down at her panic filled face, and laughed. "God, you're beautiful. A brand new canvas."

###########

Gibbs looked at his watch one more time and huffed his impatience. How many of these had he had already? He figured another wedding would be nothing but an irritation, yet he found himself itching to be before the minister currently standing in their living room.

_Kicked to the basement with Joseph last night, all for traditions sake, and now today, I've still not seen her. _He looked at his watch again. _Half past ten. Good grief. Hurry up, woman._

Abby scurried in with Tony on her heels, and behind them came a gaggle of children. Abby handed Wynn over to his Daddy, with a stern warning to watch out for puke. He'd apparently been a volcano not ten minutes before.

Joseph wore his new suit, and looked like a grown man ready to take on the world, instead of the boy he'd seemed to be only days before when he'd told his aunt and uncle that he'd decided to keep his name of Yellow Hand. He felt like it was the last thing he could do for his mother; leaving her behind, even if for adoption's sake, seemed like a betrayal.

Amy had also decided to forgo the adoption, but her reasons were slightly different. She felt like she wanted to keep her family name, and not lose more of her heritage. Gibbs was a little hurt, but understood slightly. He'd heard from immigrants how hard it had been to lose pieces of their culture along with their names on Ellis Island, and could only imagine how hard it would be for someone to accept those changes when they felt that their land had been stolen from them. Amy didn't choose to live in this nation, she'd been born here, and just like her grandparents and great-grandparents before her, she was destined to live according to the "new" way of life, whether she liked it or not.

The three youngest girls hadn't even batted an eye when they learned that if they were adopted, they'd lose their last name and take on a new one. Gibbs wasn't sure if it was because they didn't understand, or if because they felt love and belonging was more important. Either way, he didn't care. He was thrilled to have three little girls who would bear his last name in only a few more days. He didn't care that they were darker, or that he'd never really even met the people they were born to. All that mattered to any of them was that they were family. Perhaps that was it. Family all had one name. Perhaps that was why they accepted the change so easily. Gibbs decided he'd not worry about it. If they had questions later, that was for the future to worry about.

Wynn snuffled in Gibbs arms, and Jethro looked down. It was hard to believe that this little fellow was already three months old. It seemed only yesterday that Amy had gone into labor, and only hours ago that he and Sam had brought both of them home from the hospital. It seemed mere minutes ago that he and Sam had signed the final forms completing his adoption, making him their son, and no longer Amy's. He looked over to Amy, and felt his heart swell with pride. She had come so far, and was doing so well.

Her grades had gone up in school, and she was learning to make good friends. Her choices in who she went to movies with, who she went shopping with, and who she had over to the house were improving, almost as if she was programmed to make healthier choices. Gibbs had hated psychiatrists before, but after seeing how much Dr. Cranston had helped Amy, he was developing a grudging respect for their field. Amy was a joy to be around, and he was proud to introduce her as his daughter every chance he got.

"Is it time yet, Daddy?" Allie bounced on her toes, her ruffled dress fluttering as she moved. "Can I go get Mommy?"

"Not yet." Jethro smiled. "Not everyone is here yet."

"Who are we waiting for?"

"Thunkashila, Unci, and Grandpa Jack are all coming to the airport. Uncle Tim is picking them up from the airport, Uncle Toby is bringing Emily, and then we've got to wait for some stuffed suit." Joseph spoke up, and then realized that the stuffed suit he was referring to had already walked in the door. SecNav hid his smile behind a nod to Gibbs, who wasn't quite sure what to do.

"Stuffed suit now in attendance, young man."

"I'm sorry, I…" SecNav laughed.

"I'd be offended if the son of Leroy Jethro Gibbs didn't say something like that." Davenport grinned at the younger man's red ears. "I would think he was teaching his children to behave, and that would be a travesty."

"Hey, now." Gibbs glared at his boss. "I'm not that bad."

"Right. That's why I had the last four directors complaining about you every week or two." Gibbs had the decency to look chagrined.

"Now, on to less humiliating topics!" Tony put his arm around Joseph, all the while winking at the minister. "And to answer the question burning in your eyes, yes, we are always like this."

"What topic do you want to discuss, DiNozzo?"

"I don't know." Tony shrugged. "I just said "Now, on to less humiliating topics!"

"Smartass."

"Daddy!" Three little voices rang out in reprimand, and Father Charleston lost control of his laughter.

He'd seen this family in his church many times, and they'd always been quiet and controlled, and yet he knew, from his interactions with them individually, that they were all verbose and excitable. He was glad to know that their polite behavior in public was a show, but not due to abuse of any sort. They were simply trying to behave.

The door opened only moments later, allowing a squealing, giggling Emily Fornell to come barreling into the living room at full speed, nearly knocking Acheflow over with the force of her hug.

"Hey, Kiddo!" Gibbs held his arm out to the side, welcoming her to him for her usual hug. "Your dad here?"

"No." She pouted. "Uncle Timmy's helping everyone with their stuff, and then he'll come in. Daddy called and had him pick me up, too. He said he had to go to work."

"Oh, that's too bad."

"He said to take lots of pictures." Her eyes took on a mischievous glint. "Something about making Mommy mad. I think he means cuz you're getting married _again_."

"Yep, last time, Em. That much I promise."

"It better be." Joseph playfully thumped his uncle upside the head. "If it's not, we're gonna have words, and they won't be happy ones."

"Hey, now. Grandparents coming in. Behave."

"Stopping the fun just as your old man arrives? That's not nice, Leroy." Jack's eyes twinkled.

"Trust me, Jack, yes, it was." Jethro looked past his father for a moment, nodding to the older couple stepping into the now-crowded room. "Good to see you, John Quincy, pleasure, Doris."

"So formal." Doris' eyes twinkled. "Come, give me my grandson." She held her hands out for the baby, and in the process, enveloped Gibbs into a tight hug. "Welcome to our family."

John Quincy was already sitting on the couch, his two littlest granddaughters on his knees, while Acheflow sat pressed firmly to his side. They were showing him all of their new shoes and dresses, and he was making sure that they all had a kiss to their foreheads. His wife joined them, bringing the new baby with her.

"How are you, Amy?" Doris was proud of her granddaughter, and it showed in her face and voice. "I hear you're doing well in school?"

"Yeah." Amy looked down, embarrassed. "I'm getting better." John Quincy stood from the couch and came to stand before his formerly wayward granddaughter.

"You've made us proud, Little One." He drew Amy to his chest as Gibbs took Wynn back from Doris. The older woman was on her way up the stairs seconds later.

######## (My brain isn't doing so well at translation, so please understand that the conversation here is NOT in English. Thanks for your understanding!)

Sam stood before the mirror in her bathroom, sighing in disgust at her hair.

"Nervous?" Sam turned sharply at the sound of her mother-in-law's voice.

"Only more than I think I've ever been before."

"Even more than when you married Ellis?" Doris' voice held no condemnation or hidden agenda.

"Honestly? Yes." Sam laughed at herself. "I think it's because I'm older now, and I know what it's all about." Doris took the comb from her hand and began to comb through the short locks her daughter wore these days.

"That makes sense." She smiled at Sam. "We learn so much as we grow older." Sam suddenly turned to face her mom.

"Do you think I'm making a mistake? Are you sure you're not upset that I'm marrying again, and that he's…." Doris held her hand up.

"Do you love him?"

"Yes."

"Does he love you?"

"Yes."

"Will he take care of you _and_ your children?"

"Yes."

"Then I have no objections." Doris leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "I don't think Ellis would, either. You've chosen a good man."

"I hope so."

"Are you worried?"

"Only that I'll make the same mistakes that his previous wives have made."

"Then be sure you don't." Doris continued styling Sam's hair as she spoke. "You've learned to call him on the things he does, but to also apologize when you need to. Don't forget those things."

"Thanks, Mom."

"Now. Are you ready?"

"Yes." Sam nodded confidently. "I am."

"Good. Your life is waiting."

#############

Fornell swore as he read the reports on his desk. So much for making it to the wedding.

"Sacks!"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Get Henderson's team, read them in, and let's get moving. If we've got a lead on this bastard, I don't want to waste it."

He watched as Sacks jogged down the hall to where he'd find Henderson.

"Dammit." Fornell ran his hand over his forehead. "I wanted pictures just for the Dianne Piss-off-o-meter."

##########

Gibbs wasn't sure what signal he missed, but his dad was suddenly at his side as his future father-in-law, or his wife's-father-in-law, however that was supposed to work, he still wasn't quite sure, was in the door, ready to take Sam on her final walk as a single woman.

Abby was standing opposite of Jack, a brilliant smile lighting her face. Gibbs glanced to their children, and felt a wave of pride mixed with fear wash over him. Was he really good enough? He shook off the harmful emotions, kept the good, and waited.

Sam appeared in the door, and he felt his heart stop. He knew he was staring, but he didn't really care. From the tiny roses that had been laced through her hair, and held in only-God-knew how, to the heels he knew she'd nearly refused to purchase, she was breathtaking.

He'd known she and Abby had searched for days for the right dress, and he'd gotten in trouble more than once for trying to find it, but he had no idea it was anything like this. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but this simple…elegance… wasn't it.

Her hair seemed to be a continuation of the roses embroidered on the white silk. The high waist hid the slightly larger build she carried, and the pure white straps made her dark shoulders seem far darker in contrast. He looked down, taking in the full skirt which was covered with a sheer silky fabric, making it seem as if she was floating instead of walking.

Each step closer, Jethro found another memory kicking into his mind. The day she found them out in the snow. The first time they woke in the same bed, of course, that was due to his stupidity. He was reminded of the first time she tasted a hotdog, and let a smirk pass his features as he pictured her look of disgust. He recalled the night she and Joseph had left, and how terrified he'd been. He drew in a breath at the memory of how he'd nearly lost her to a drunken rant. Each memory was more precious than the last, and he found himself facing the enormity of his love for her. It was an ocean, and he would happily stay adrift forever.

"Who gives this woman to be wed?"

"My wife and I." John Quincy spoke softly. He took Sam's hand and placed it carefully in Jethro's.

The old man took his place beside his wife, pulling Alex onto his lap. He watched with bright, smiling eyes as the daughter of his heart took the next step in her life.

"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the joining of this man and this woman. If anyone knows any reason they should not be bound, I ask you to speak now, or forever hold your peace."

###########

It was a quiet neighborhood. Very little happened here, mostly because most of the residents were elderly. The jobs to be had were few and far between, and it wasn't often that newcomers arrived.

The young couple hadn't caused any problems per se, but there was something strange about them, and when the screaming started up last night, their neighbors on both sides of their house had called the police. Of course, there was nothing that could really be done, since when the officers came, there was no noise, but the report included the license plate of their car, which in turn alerted the BOLO.

People watched from behind their curtains as police cars with their lights turned off parked a few houses away and began making their way stealthily toward the house. Unmarked cars pulled up, and men in suits emerged, obviously giving orders.

In their houses, neighbors started calling one another, checking to be sure everyone on their street was safe. They'd never seen anything like this before, and every one of them prayed they'd never see it again. Most hoped there was some misunderstanding, while all of them locked their doors and began to leave their windows, afraid of seeing some horrible thing take place.

Five minutes later, a company of eight federal agents and ten LEO's had the exits of the house covered. Fornell and Sacks went to the door and knocked.

"Federal agents! Open up!"

############

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride."

Amid claps and wolf-whistles, Jethro lifted Sam's veil. His hands swept over her hair, falling to her shoulders as his hands made their way to her waist.

"I love you, Mrs. Gibbs." Sam blushed as he lowered his head, brushing his lips against hers.

###########

Fornell waited only a breath longer before he kicked in the door.

In the room, Howard looked down at Carol. He'd finished his last "work". He'd managed to follow the directions from a book created back in the 1600's that described in great detail the disembowelment and quartering of a human body.

Not only had he completed this task, but she was his 105th victim. He had left two corpses behind him in every state on his trek through the continental United States, snagging a few "sporting ones" along the way to make up for Hawai'i and Alaska.

"My life is over. I did it." He knew the police were working their way through the house, and he had only moments. He really didn't want to be arrested. That would be no fun at all. If he was arrested, he couldn't kill anyone else. If he stayed free, he could kill at least one more. A feral smile crossed his features. He knew exactly who to kill. It would be a spectacular death.

Fornell and Sacks cleared room after room, until only one room was left. With a nod, Fornell raised his foot and kicked hard. The door flew open, and Sacks gagged. Fornell called for backup, two body bags, and a medic. He figured the medic wouldn't be needed, but it was best to have all bases covered.

From the way the knife went into one side of Howard's neck and jutted out the other, even if he was still alive, he wouldn't be for long.

##########

"You kids be good, and obey your grandparents while we're gone." Gibbs spoke firmly. "Don't want to get calls about you being naughty."

"We'll be good." Acheflow nodded solemnly. "You're coming back, right?"

"Yep." Sam sat down and pulled the child to her. "We're going for a week, remember?" She pointed with her chin, and Joseph handed her the calendar from the wall. "See, this is Friday, and we're going to come back on Saturday." She pointed to the days.

"You promise?"

That conversation had taken place nearly ten hours before, and Sam smiled as she stepped from the plane that had carried them to their destination. Her husband had taken great care in promising the children that they'd be back. He'd amused her by promising to call and tell them good night every night.

"Like it?" Gibbs smiled down at his wife.

"It's beautiful here." She drew in a deep breath. "How did you find out about this place?"

"Well, there's a friend of mine, we may run into him, but he told me about it."

"Should I be worried?" Sam threw him a playful glare.

"Nope. I told him I was going to be too busy with my wife to do more than wave hello."

It didn't take long for them to fill out the papers for the car he'd rented, and soon they were zipping down the highway toward a tropical resort, the kind she'd only dreamed of. It seemed there were miles between the houses, and she began to realize that each house had a private beach.

"We're at the resort, aren't we?"

"Yes." Gibbs' smile grew as he watched his wife's eyes grow wide. "You talked about wanting to see a place like this once in your life. I'm hoping we can make a habit out of it, only the next time I want to bring the kids."

Sam was enraptured with the scenery, and with their good fortune at staying there. She reached over and took Jethro's hand, fairly babbling her excitement. He simply smiled and drove on, looking for the right number to pull into. He saw it, and slowed down, making the corner carefully, not wanting to scare his wife.

"Oh, Jethro, it's beautiful." She'd climbed from the car as soon as he'd parked. She headed to the door, and he called to her, asking her to wait. She stopped, watching as he grabbed the last of their luggage.

"Put down your stuff, Mrs. Gibbs." She willingly put down her bags and wrapped her arms around him.

"Have ideas already, do you?"

"Hm-hum." He bent down and kissed her tenderly. Seconds later, she squealed with laughter as his arms went under her legs and he lifted her. "Gonna do this right."

"You're going to hurt your back." She laughed as she reached for the door.

"Nah."

"You'd better not. I have plans for that back later on."

"Just my back, huh?"

"No, but your back does figure largely into my plans." She nipped at his neck. "It's hard to do fun things when your back hurts."

#########

She moved into his arms, never breaking the desperate contact of their mouths. Her arms searched for purchase on his water-slicked body. He pulled her closer, his arm curling around her head, trapping her head to his with the bend of his elbow.

Sam opened her mouth to accept his gently questing tongue, and he moaned as she sucked on it greedily. His hand moved of its own accord to her breast. She gasped against his mouth as he palmed her. Her own roving fingers stroked over his chest, running her fingers through his soft pelt. When she crossed his sensitive nipple, he thrust his tongue into her hot warmth harder. She repeated her action.

They continued with their kisses, Sam letting her head roll back as Jethro nibbled and licked along her neck. He hit the spot behind her ear, and she felt desire slam through her. He had to have noticed her reaction, because he stayed there for a moment, licking, tasting, and finally running his teeth over it.

He listened as her breath changed as he paid attention to that one spot. Her soft gasps drove straight to his groin, and he knew he should stop, but he couldn't bring himself to. She pulled him to her mouth once again, catching his torturous lips with her own.

His hand moved on its own accord to her hips, and he felt the muscles beneath his soft touch quiver and contract. He groaned and thrust his tongue hungrily between her parted lips where her own had only just retreated.

Her own hand stroked from his collarbone to his hip, paying attention to where his breath caught and his muscles jumped at her touch. She ran a single finger along the waistband of his trunks, thrilling in the way his intensity grew as she touched his abdomen. They had made love before, but somehow, it seemed as if they were learning one another for the first time, and every sensation, every movement was more intense and pleasurable.

She tore her mouth from his, gasping as his hand left her hip to cup her intimately. He worried for a moment that he had taken it too far, but when she returned to him, nipping his neck, he took his cue and curled his fingers against the silky material of her swim suit.

"Oh, God, Jethro." Her words were breathy and nearly unheard against his skin. Her hand left his body, and he regretted his decision to push her until her hand covered his, pressing him tightly against her. He smiled as he rubbed harder against her.

Jethro began to stand, pulling her with him. When she was able to sit on the edge of the sauna and the porch around it, he let go of her long enough to begin removing the straps from her shoulders. She smiled and helped to push it down, baring herself to him. He latched onto one of her brown nipples before pushing her suit down to her hips.

As he feasted, he lay her back gently and together they worked her suit from her body. He found himself with her fingers pushing his own trunks down, and with a smile against her, he removed them. For a few moments, they looked one another over, taking in the sight of their stripped bodies.

He looked back up to her once, as if asking permission. She nodded, her breath caught in her throat until he lowered his head and kissed her sensitive lower regions. Her breath exploded from her in a pleasured yet soft cry.

By the time Gibbs added a finger to his careful exploration of her body, she was writhing in pleasure. Sam looked down, meeting his eyes as he added a second finger to his play. She gasped, watching as he continued to bring her to her climax.

His pale skin and blue eyes were something that she'd never considered before meeting Jethro. Even any Anglo's that she'd agreed to meet for dinner had to have black or brown hair and brown eyes. Other colors had seemed unnatural. Over time, she'd found his eyes to be the most beautiful part of his physique. The contrast of his skin against hers was beautiful to her. He nipped, and she came undone.

He reached down to stave off his own climax. He continued loving her through her body's final aftershocks of pleasure before rising off of his knees. Sam reached out to him, and he took her hand. Her eyes fell to his leaking cock, and she licked her lips. He felt his balls tighten at the look of hunger in her eyes.

He met her gaze, and she understood that she'd be waiting to have her pleasure. He took himself in hand and guided his tip to her entrance with shaking hands. She gasped as he flicked his tip at her sensitive nub a few times before pressing in.

He broke eye contact to watch himself sink into her delicious heat. He closed his eyes a moment later in an effort to not come from the sight alone. Her passage clenched around him as he withdrew before pushing back in gently.

Sam was in heaven. Jethro had sunk into her as far as he could go, and was beginning to thrust slowly and carefully into her once again. His angle allowed him to hit her elusive inner nerve, and she gasped as she felt his tip brush it once more. She mewled his name, rocking her hips.

"Jethro, move it." She took his hand once again. "I know you want to go faster." Her breathing was still harsh from her previous climax, and he saw the signs of her careening toward another.

"Oh, God." He groaned as he felt her inner walls clench him again. "Are you sure? You're so…" His concern alone was heightening her pleasure.

"Harder." Her eyes were closed, and a near scream escaped as he ploughed back into her forcefully. "Oh, yes, baby, so good."

With one hand clutching hers and his other arm wrapped around her leg to keep from slipping, he began to thrust and retreat at a furious pace. Their eyes met once again, heat exploding in their gaze. A gentle breeze blew in the stillness, adding its own caress to their lovemaking.

Jethro began to pound into her, his teeth gritted as he tried to pleasure her before he lost his internal battle with his own urges. When her head fell back, her eyes closed as a soft keening moan reached his ears. With a growl, he let his urges win as he emptied himself into her.

He lay forward for a moment, resting on her as they caught their breath. She smiled, kissing him lazily as they rested. His knees began to ache from their bent position, and he cursed the need to move.

He stood on shaky legs as he rinsed himself before crawling out of the Jacuzzi. She teased him for taking a bath, and he blushed, retorting smartly that it just seemed to be the right thing to do in a warm bath tub. She laughed and moved to lay by him on the towels he'd spread after he climbed from the water.

Several moments passed during which they shared light kisses and caresses. Both had whispered their love once more, and Gibbs felt himself becoming aroused once again as her hands played across his skin. When she took him in her calloused palm, he groaned from pleasure.

"As much as I'd like to continue this right here," she stopped speaking long enough to trace a drop of water running down his throat with her tongue. "We should go in before you burn."

"I can take a little more sunlight." He grinned. "I'm pale, not fragile."

"Very true." She ran her hand over his normally-covered nether-regions. "This is what I'm concerned about." Her eyebrow cocked. "Unless you've been taking arsenic to make yourself pale, this hasn't seen sunlight in years."

He grinned and moved her hand to where he wanted her touch the most. She circled her fingers around his quickly growing erection and stroked slowly, drawing a hiss from his lips.

"Let's go to bed." She whispered with her lips pressed against his ear. "I want to repay your…kindness."


	105. Chapter 105

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Note: Thanks to my marvelous beta, Headbanger Rockstar. I love you! *hugs*

Note: This really is it! IT's hard to believe, but this is the final chapter. *sniff* My thanks and appreciation to EVERYONE who has read, favorited, followed, and reviewed. THANK YOU for sticking with me on this adventure!

AND SPECIAL THANKS to Stareagle, who I will give honorary co-author status to, simply for having such an incredible finger on this story from the get-go! I hope that I was able to give you a surprise or two along the way, but as you seemed to share my brain half the time… *big grin*

#############

Emily sat tucked into her daddy's side as they looked at the pictures from Gibbs and Sam's wedding.

"What's this one?"

"Oh! Daddy! It was so cool!" Emily bounced, getting into a better position to act out exactly what had happened for this particular picture. Her hands moved in quick pantomime, almost as if they were trying to keep up with her words.

"After Uncle Jethro kissed An' Sam?" Fornell nodded. "Well, Uncle Tony asked the priest if he'd mind pulling a double." The man's eyes widened.

"You mean I missed _two_ weddings?"

"Yeah! Aunt Abby said something about wanting to lope, or something like that, and if he thought it was a good time, and no one would mind, they'd steal a couple of people and go into the kitchen and get married! An' Sam told them to pull their heads outta their butts, and just get married with everyone!"

"What are Ducky and Palmer gonna do when they find out they missed?"

"Oh, that's the coolest part! Uncle Tim dialed his phone and put it on speaker! They got to hear everything, even Uncle Jethro an' An' Sam's wedding! They didn't miss anything! Ducky said he was glad to be a part of it, and he wished he could see. But he said something about having company." Her brow knitted. "Why does he get company at work? You never do, do you?"

"Nope, just Ducky and Palmer. So anyway. Tell me about this picture. You're way off track."

"Oh, this is them getting married!" Fornell grinned down at the picture. He'd never expected DiNozzo to follow through and actually get married. Good for him, and he couldn't think of anyone better for the young man than the woman beside him. They looked good, and the joy on their faces was unmistakable. "See, she borrowed An' Sam's flowers, and they didn't have rings, but Uncle Tony promised that they'd go later and get them."

"I don't see Ziva in here at all."

"She's on vacation."

"Where to?"

"Aunt Abby said that her mom flew into Florida, so she went down there for the week. I don't know why they didn't come."

"Well, trips to and from Florida can cost a lot of money."

"I guess." Without further thought, Emily continued flipping through pictures, filling her Daddy in on everything that had happened that day.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, Baby?"

"How come some people, like An' Sam and Uncle Jethro can smile and be in love, and some people like my mom, are always mad?"

"What do you mean? Your mom smiles a lot."

"Not really." Emily shrugged. "She smiles when she wants something."

"What's going on, Em?"

"She told Victor that she wants a divorce. Isn't that what she got from you?"

"Yep, it is."

"Did she leave Uncle Jethro, or did he tell her to get out?"

"Technically, he told her to get out, after she hit him with something and made his head bleed." Emily's eyes widened.

"She did that?" Tobias nodded, suddenly wishing he'd not said that. "Did she want to divorce you, or did…"

"Well, before you get to asking too many questions, let me explain something, ok?"

"Ok."

"Sometimes, people aren't happy, and they don't like themselves very much." Emily nodded. "When people don't like themselves, it's hard for them to love others. Sometimes the person who doesn't like themselves starts looking for other people to make them happy. But the trouble is that no one person can make any other person happy all the time."

"What do you mean?"

"Take you and me for example."

"Ok."

"You love me, right?" Emily nodded. "And I love you, you know that, right?" She nodded again. "Do I always do things that make you happy?"

"No." She shook her head slowly. "Sometimes, you have to work when I want you to stay home, and sometimes, I want a toy, and you tell me no."

"That's right." Fornell nodded. "And sometimes, you don't obey. But does that mean I don't love you anymore?"

"No."

"That's right. I love you, I just don't like what you're doing." He ran his hand over her hair, and then beeped her nose. "People who don't like themselves very much sometimes forget that the people they love aren't always going to make them happy. They get confused about love, and what it is."

"Is that what's wrong with my mom? She forgot?"

"Yep." Fornell smiled down at his daughter. "Can you do me a favor?"

"What?"

"If you ever feel like you're getting confused like your mom is, will you talk to me about it?"

"Ok, Daddy. I promise." Fornell set the pictures down and pulled his daughter close. They snuggled on the couch until both of them were sound asleep.

##########

Tony groaned as the doorbell rang. He really didn't want to get up, but their stomach's had been growling for ages.

"Just get it, Tony." Abby was still boneless after their last joining.

"Ug. Clothes." He stood up and whipped the sheet off of the end of the bed, wrapping it around his waist as he searched for his wallet. How he could misplace his pants in his own apartment, he had _absolutely no _idea. "Ah. There."

He dug the scrap of leather from its pouch and glared at the door as the bell rang again.

"I'm coming!" He hoped he'd shouted loud enough, because to have to call the pizzeria and ask them to redeliver would be humiliating. He should have listened to Abby when she said there wasn't enough time. _Me and my hormones._

"Thanks, man." Tony opened the door, doing his best to not let the sheet slip. "Here, um, keep the change." He grinned and shut the door, hoping he'd not accidentally given the poor kid a show. He'd not even looked down to make sure the sheet was covering everything he needed to cover.

"Lunch is here."

"Smells good."

"You coming out here?"

"Yeah." Abby stood and stretched. Tony watched the movement of her body, transfixed by her beauty. "What?"

"Nothing." He grinned. "Still can't believe you're mine."

"I won't be again until we've had food and some sleep, Mr. DiNozzo."

"Then better put something on, Mrs. DiNozzo." He groaned as she picked his shirt up off of the floor and slipped it on. "That's not exactly what I had in mind."

"I know." Seduction dripped from her voice, and he knew that if she kept that up, they'd never make it out for the trip they'd agreed on. She pushed him down onto the chair behind him, and sat in his lap, pulling a single slice of pizza from the box.

She fed him a bite, and then ate some herself. Tony found a new favorite way to eat pizza, and quickly decided that finding their wedding rings could wait.

#############

"I can't believe we're home." Sam stood in the driveway. It was only 5 AM, and they'd not told anyone they were coming home a day early. The girls were getting nervous, so they decided to cut their stay short by a mere 20 hours.

"I know." Gibbs wrapped his arms around his wife, looking over their home with her. "What do you think we should do?"

"Several options."

"Ok? First one?"

"Go inside, make coffee, and wait."

"Second?"

"Go to the barn, do chores, then go to the house, make coffee, and wait."

"Third?"

"Try to sneak upstairs without waking anyone and go to bed?"

"I like that one." Gibbs nuzzled her neck. "I have another option, though."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"Wake everyone up and let them know we're here?"

"Only if you deal with the tears later on because they're tired and won't take naps." Gibbs chuckled as he pictured his wife's words.

"Ok, then, coffee." Sam laughed as he released her, taking her hand. "Well, come on, woman. Coffee won't make itself."

They sat in the kitchen talking about nothing important until it was nearly 7:30. Sam looked at the clock once more, and Gibbs rolled his eyes.

"Just start the bacon. They'll be up in no time."

Sam had only one pound of bacon fried when Gibbs heard tiny feet on the stairs mere seconds before a loud shriek of "Daddy" announced the arrival of Allie, who nearly knocked Gibbs out of his chair with the force of her tiny body-blowing hug.

Minutes later found the kitchen teeming with life as their parents and children swarmed in around them.

###########

Fornell had a team of people working with him to sort out the identifications found in Howard's trophy box and pair them with murders that had happened around the nation. Some of them had yet to be reported, and some he wondered if they'd ever find the bodies, but at least they'd be able to close a lot of cases, including several missing-persons' reports.

They had found the book Howard had kept, detailing each murder in gruesome detail. He'd gone back to his first murder, describing the hunt, how he'd buried the man, and how he'd decided to begin keeping memento's that day. Fornell looked at the name in the notebook, and cross-referenced it with the drivers' license marked "my first".

"Vernon Ye…" He stopped and swore softly. That son of a bitch.

"I need to step out." He met Sacks' eyes. "Gotta call to make."

Out in the hall, Fornell sighed. Was this the right time to call? Those kids needed closure, and they deserved to know that their dad wasn't coming back. He looked at his watch. Even with the time change, Gibbs should be awake. Sure, he'd be pissed with the call, but the FBI agent wasn't about to call the house with this.

"Gibbs." Fornell heard childish shouts in the background.

"You home already?"

"The natives were getting restless, so we figured we'd put their fears to rest. What's up?"

"Gotta talk to you about Vernon Yellow Hand." Fornell heard Gibbs suck in a breath.

"Hon? Can you take Wynn? I need to step out for a minute."

"Sure. Work?"

"Yeah." Fornell could hear a door opening and closing, and then silence. "Alright. Talk."

When Gibbs reentered the kitchen, he asked Sam to come with him to the garage.

"What's wrong?"

"Fornell wasn't here last week because they got a hit on the Video Killer." Sam nodded. "They found Vernon's drivers' license in the guy's trophy box." Sam gasped, and her eyes filled with tears. "He was that asshole's first kill."

He pulled his wife to his chest, letting her cry for the man he'd met only once. Even he had to agree that it was a punishment far too great for his crimes of being a jerk. Gibbs relayed to her the description of his death as he was told by Fornell, and she agreed that the children didn't need to know that part of it.

When Sam had composed herself, they entered the house, calling their children to the living room, and asking their parents to join them. Doris started to ask Sam why she'd been crying, but Sam shook her head. Everyone would know soon enough.

"Kids, we need to tell you something about your father."

##########

John Quincy, Doris, and Jack stayed in town for their grandchildren's adoptions. Jack watched as the younger Gibbs' couple stepped forward and signed the papers. The judge offered his congratulations, and it was over. To the Gibbs', it seemed as if some of their most monumental steps as a couple and as a family were so small in comparison to their meaning.

"Does this mean we belong now, Mommy?"

"It sure does, Sweetie." Sam picked Alex up. The little one had grown so much over the last few months. Once she'd gotten over her confusion with languages, she'd started speaking so fast that there were days Sam struggled to keep up.

"What now?"

"What now, what?" Gibbs tweaked Allie on her nose. "What now, elephant?"

"No, Daddy. What do we do now?"

"Now, we go home."

"Will Unci and Thunkashila and Grandpa Jack come, too?"

"For today, but they're going to go home soon."

"Why?" When his son looked like a deer caught in headlights, Jack stepped in.

"If we don't go home, then we can't come back for Christmas."

"Oh." Allie seemed satisfied, and as the judge chuckled from his seat, the family cleared the room, making way for the next case, which they hoped would be as happy as theirs.

Gibbs and Sam pulled onto their private road, and both groaned. In the back of their suburban, three little girls cheered, waking Wynn, who had been sleeping peacefully.

"Sometimes, I wish we'd never given them the access code." Sam slapped his shoulder playfully.

"You know that's not true."

Gibbs grudgingly admitted that she was right, even as he looked at the signs hanging on the side of their house. Their little entourage of cars pulled in, and he waited to be sure Joseph and Amy got the gate shut before he finished driving to their house.

"Here they come."

"Maybe they brought dinner?" Sam laughed as she watched her husband's MCRT and his security team pour from the house.

"Don't bet on it."

"Daddy, are you mad?"

"Nope." Gibbs stamped down the irritation he was feeling at being surprised in his own home. "Just living up to the second B in my name."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that Daddy's working hard to get in trouble." Sam was quick to answer the question.

"Oh."

Their guests had indeed brought dinner with them, and the lively crew played games and wore the children out, making bedtime simple, even with the excitement of the day.

"Guess I ought to be heading to bed, too." Jack stretched. "Early flight tomorrow."

"Gonna miss having you up here, Jack." Gibbs gave his dad a hug. "Been good."

"I'm glad we got to meet you." Doris spoke from where she sat by her husband.

"I'm glad I got to meet you, too. Heard an awful lot of good things from Sam."

"She's a good woman."

"That she is." Jack bid them goodnight and headed down to the basement he was sharing with Joseph.

Within minutes, John Quincy and Doris had retreated to the room they were borrowing from Amy. The rest of their company had left for home, and for the first time since returning home from their honeymoon, Gibbs and Sam found themselves alone with no dishes to do, no toys to pick up, and no little ones needing attention.

"So, Mommy, what do you want to do with our evening?" Sam hid a yawn.

"I think I'd like to turn in early, Daddy."

"Tired, are you?" Jethro had caught her yawn.

"Yes, but sleep can wait." She curled her hand in the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. "Right now, I want my husband all to myself." Gibbs grinned, words completely lost as visions of what he wanted to do with her rushed into his mind.

Wynn cried. Sam laughed. Jethro heaved a sigh as he climbed the stairs. He smiled to himself. Even if he pretended to be irritated at the interruption, he'd not want to be anywhere else.

#########

There had been no questioning when Joseph called and asked that Sam would go with him to claim the belongings the authorities had verified as Vernon's. Gibbs hadn't left for work yet, so he called in to Abby to find out if she was willing to keep them for the day. The girls had heard enough of the conversation to get them worked out, and it quickly became clear that going to school would end in nothing but disciplines and time outs.

Sam hurried about packing Wynn's diaper bag and making sure he had a few spare outfits. At ten months, he was just beginning to really play, so he only needed a few toys, a couple of extra bibs, pacifiers, and dozen or so changes of clothes and more diapers than anyone so tiny had the right to go through.

"Honey, you're only sending him for a day."

"Jethro, you know how he is."

"Yes, and I know you're worried, but we'll be fine." He kissed his wife gently. "If we run out of anything, I've got an office full of agents who love to dote on the Director's children. Trust me. If I so much as say that he's running low on diapers, I'll have a dozen packages by his next change."

"Are you sure about this?" Sam stopped moving for a moment, and Gibbs took the hint that she wanted held. "Maybe we should call a sitter."

"We've never called anyone but the team, Sam. I'd not trust anybody. We'd both be worried all day, and neither of us can afford that."

"But you've got that meeting."

"And I've got Abby and the team, provided there's not a case, and if they get one, it'll still be ok. He's sleeping most of the time anyway."

"If you're sure…"

"I'm sure, Sam, and when you're done, call, and we'll meet you two for lunch or dinner, whichever, ok?"

"I love you."

"Love you, too." The girls were loaded in the car and already buckled, excited about their day with Daddy when Gibbs carried Wynn's carrier out and snapped it into its base.

"Did you girls say bye to Mommy?"

"Oh! We forgot!" He smiled as he watched his three little princesses run in and leave the door hang wide open. He watched as they barely got beyond the entry when Sam met them. The girls said their goodbyes, and raced to the car once again.

"Don't forget to buckle." He watched in the mirror to be sure. Acheflow had pretended to buckle once, and when Sam had to hit the brakes to avoid hitting a dog, the girl had gotten a bloody nose. While that had cured her of her desire to be unbuckled, her parents watched the girls closely now to be sure they actually had fastened their belts.

He backed out of the garage slowly, glad that Wynn had slept through the noise of car doors and giggly girls. He'd doubted Sam's insistence at Wynn not be sheltered from noise at first, but he'd found that the little fellow fell asleep and stayed asleep during noises that would have had Kelly awake and screaming. He wondered at times about what else was common knowledge that ended up being completely wrong for some babies.

Once they arrived at NCIS, the girls barely waited for Gibbs to get Wynn out of the car before they were reaching for their backpacks.

"Come _on_, Daddy!" Allie whined pitifully. "I wanna go see Aunt Abby."

"We'll get there, Pumpkin. Gimme a minute. Daddy's not as quick at this as Mommy."

"No kidding." Acheflow rolled her eyes. "Mom can do this with goats running around."

"You hush. Where'd you learn to be so smart, anyway?"

"Uncle Tony." The nine year old rolled her eyes. "You let him talk to you like this."

"Yes, and he's grown."

"I'm nine."

"When you're nineteen, we'll talk. Ok." He straightened up with the diaper bag over one shoulder and Wynn's carrier in the other. "Hold hands, and no running."

"Yes, Daddy." Three little voices chorused.

"You're pretty quiet, Alex, you ok?"

"Yeah." Her tone of voice wasn't very reassuring.

"What's wrong?"

"Joseph is getting our old Daddy's things?"

"Yep."

"I don't remember him. Are you _sure_ we had another Daddy before you?"

"You know what, how about we talk to Mommy about this?"

"Why?"

"Because you had a different Daddy than us, and Daddy doesn't want to talk about it."

"Daddy's not my Daddy?" Her lower lip quivered, and Gibbs shot Acheflow a look.

"Sorry, Dad."

"You're my daughter, Alex." He set Wynn's carrier down and pulled her close. "Remember how you got adopted by Mommy and I? We all went to court?" His little one nodded. "It doesn't matter if you had the Easter Bunny for a Daddy before, I'm your Daddy now, and always will be, ok?"

"Ok." She sniffled. "It'd be fun to have the Easter Bunny for a Daddy." Alex giggled. "We could color eggs every day!" Gibbs heaved a sigh of relief as he picked Wynn back up. He was glad she was so easily distracted.

Once they were through security, the girls tugged one another toward the elevators. They had only been to the building once before, however they remembered very clearly that Aunt Abby and Grandpa Ducky were in the basement. And the basement was where they wanted to be.

Abby had been watching security in between checking machines for results, and knew the family was on their way down. Meeting them in the hall, she cooed over Wynn, who was just waking up. Gibbs handed her the sack of snacks Sam had packed, and gave her some small warnings about the music she listened to, and what lyrics he didn't want them singing at dinner.

"Oh, ye of little faith."

"No, me of much explaining to my wife." He grinned and kissed her cheek. "I'll be upstairs if you girls need me."

"Ok, Daddy." He doubted he'd be needed. It seemed as though he'd already been forgotten.

Once upstairs, he set Wynn on the floor by his desk and began his work day. Call after call was made before the baby started to fuss. After a diaper and a bottle, he fell asleep on his Daddy's shoulder until Gibbs needed to prepare for his meeting. The team was working on cold cases, and Tony had readily agreed to watch Wynn with the "help" of his team.

He called down to the lab to check on the girls, and Abby informed him that they'd played like madmen for most of the morning until they'd squabbled a bit. She'd sent them to corners for time out, and both had fallen asleep.

#################################

His meeting was finally over, and Gibbs headed down to collect his children. He'd already called Abby, and she had the girls awake, their snacks were eaten, their moods were good, and they were ready to see Daddy's office.

Gibbs picked up his happy boy and kissed his head. "Did you have fun with Uncle Tony?" He nodded to the boy's widened eyes. "Yes, I can see that you did. I'll bet you spent most of your time with Aunt Ziva, though. Yes, I bet you did." The baby smiled at his Daddy. "I see you got her. Yes, you did. She's got a big old white splotch on her shirt, yes she does."

"He felt it necessary to christen the office, Gibbs." The former Mossad agent was frustrated. "How is it that he can throw up so much when his little tummy holds only a tiny amount?"

"It's the magic of babies, Ziver."

####################################

Hollis Mann had come to NCIS with the thin excuse of meeting a friend for lunch, and had been surprised to hear that her former boyfriend was now the Director of the agency. She tried getting a few details from her friend, only to be stonewalled at every turn. Obviously, he'd become more private than he'd been before.

When she saw him coming down from his office to the bullpen, she'd waited to approach him. With interest, she saw him pick up the baby that had been passed around the cubicle. He didn't hand the baby back, and she watched as he picked up the diaper bag. She was so intent on watching him that she barely registered the elevator opening.

"Daddy!" A trio of little girls, as dark as the baby, raced toward Gibbs. The older man smiled and hugged them.

"Hey, Baby Girls. Have fun with Aunt Abby?"

"Yeah! Did Mommy call yet?"

"Not yet, but we're going up to my office for a bit."

Hollis would have smiled at their excited cheering were she not ready to cry. Her friend tapped her arm.

"So this is why we went to lunch. You were hoping to hook back up."

"I wanted to see you."

"Right. That's why you've not heard a thing I said since he came down those stairs. Why don't you go say hi?"

"Yes, that's what I'll do." Hollis rolled her eyes. "I can see it now. Hi, I can see you're happily married, and I just thought I'd come over and see if I can't steal you away." Colleen's phone rang.

"Smith."

"Hi, this is Cynthia, the Director's secretary, and he thought he saw an old friend down at your desk. Is Hollis Mann there?"

"She is." Hollis sat down, resisting the urge to swear.

"Can she come to the Director's office, please?"

"I'll send her right up." Colleen ended her call.

"Thanks for throwing me to the wolves."

"Only one wolf. With pups. Have fun."

Hollis started toward the stairs, fully aware that his old team watched her progress. She wondered if he called them and warned them in case of fireworks, and not the kind she and Gibbs once shared. Cynthia buzzed her in, and she fought the urge to run.

Perhaps it wasn't too late to reenlist in the Army, or maybe just go back to Hawaii. The choice was made for her when Allie yanked the door open. She looked up at the strange woman for a minute before running back to join her sisters.

Inside the office, the girls were already settled down with coloring books on his couch, and he was feeding Wynn another two ounces of formula. He smiled to his old lover.

"How are you, Hollis?"

"I'm good." She motioned to the girls. "Looks like you're doing well."

"Yes, we're great. Acheflow, Allie, Alex, this is Ms. Mann." His girls stood and went to the woman, shaking her hand politely. "We were friends a long time ago."

"When did you get married, Jethro?"

"Just a few months ago." He stood and put Wynn to his shoulder. "This is Wynn."

"He's adorable."

"You've not looked at him, unless you were watching him downstairs."

"No, I wasn't." She stood uncomfortably for a moment. "Well, I guess I should go."

"May be a good idea. How's Randy?"

"We didn't work out."

"Too bad. At least you have Hawaii."

"I guess."

"I'd say more than you guess, Hollis. After all, you wanted a commitment, you got it, and you made one when you bought that house on the island."

"And I see you stayed far from that sort of thing."

"Oh, no, I jumped in with both feet." He was aware of his daughters looking from one to the other as they politely "discussed" their past. "The difference? Sam never tried to change me, never tried to force anything, and didn't get upset about any formal commitment."

"Trying to give me dating advice?"

"No." Gibbs bit back a smart remark that she could learn a thing or two. "Just hoping you learn to not pressure a guy. I hope you'll be happy one day."

"Like you? A houseful of children? Why didn't you say that was what you wanted?"

"That wasn't what I wanted then. I needed time, and I fell in love. I cared for you, but I never really loved you." He saw her stiffen. "You didn't love me, either. Not like we should have to go into what you wanted."

"So you're telling me that I screwed us up." He just looked at her.

The phone rang, and he answered. "Hey, Hon." He smiled. "Yeah, we can meet you guys there in ten." He hung up. "Well, we need to get going to meet my wife and our oldest son for lunch."

"Four children. Wow."

"Five, actually." Jethro smiled. "If you include Kelly, six."

"And on that note, I'll head back to Hawaii where I belong."

"See you around, maybe."

"Only if I have to come back for some other legal papers." The door closed behind her.

"Daddy?" Allie looked up at her father, her little arms crossed.

"Yes?"

"Were you being mean?"

"What makes you think that?"

"She looked mad, and then she looked madder. That wasn't nice, Daddy. We're supposed to be nice. Mommy said."

"Yes, she did." Gibbs chuckled. "But I think Mommy will understand this one."

"Why did we have to meet her, Daddy?" Acheflow was still afraid that Jethro was just like Vernon in some ways. Gibbs sighed.

"Sometimes, adults don't make sense. I know Hollis, and I know that if I didn't talk to her now, she'd be back later. And I didn't want that."

"So Mommy doesn't find out?" Gibbs' eyes widened.

"Oh, no! I'm gonna tell Mommy myself. I didn't want her to come back so Mommy didn't have to talk to her."

"At lunch?"

"Sure." Acheflow nodded.

"If you don't, I will. I'm not keeping secrets for you like our last Daddy wanted us to."

"Never, Baby. Well, maybe presents."

Allie let out a dramatic sigh. "Presents aren't secrets, Daddy, they're presents."

###########

Less than a week later, Tony rang the bell at the Gibbs household just after dinner.

"Hey, Tony." Sam smiled at him as she opened the door. "Come on in! What's up?"

"Well, um, I wanted to talk to the Bossman for a minute."

"Sure. He's out in his workshop. Everything ok?" She looked so concerned that Tony couldn't help but smile.

"Everything's fine. Great, in fact." He was burning to tell her the news Abby had told him only that morning, but he'd promised he'd wait for the weekend when they could tell everyone together.

"Did Abby come with you?"

"No, she's still working. Another team had a case, and she was finishing up with the cataloguing."

"Oh, that's too bad. You're still coming to the bar-b-cue on Saturday?"

"Wouldn't miss it for anything." Tony kissed her quickly on the cheek. "I'm gonna head out to the workshop, so I can beat Abby home. I wanna make her a nice dinner tonight."

"Go on." Sam smiled. "Oh, and Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"Married life looks good on you." His smile widened, as if that was possible.

Gibbs carefully carved out a tiny rose. He smiled as he thought of the gift he'd be able to give his wife on their anniversary. It was hard to believe they'd been married almost a year already.

He heard the door open, and quickly slid the piece under some papers.

"Hey, Boss!" Tony's smile seemed somewhat forced, but Gibbs figured that sooner or later, the young man would come out with whatever was bothering him.

"Hey, Tony. How's life treating you?"

"Great." Tony set the box he'd been carrying down on the end of the work bench. "Abby, well…" Tony sighed. "She's perfect, Boss."

"I know what you mean." Jethro smiled softly. "I'd really given up finding love like this again." He was silent for a moment, and Tony waited, knowing there was more coming from the older man. "I don't know what I would have done, or where I'd be without Sam." He straightened up a bit. "She's the one who taught me to find Shannon and Kelly in memories. Not in things, but in here." He placed his hand over his heart. "If she hadn't done that…" He cleared his throat.

"The fire." Tony nodded. "Um, Gibbs, I need, well, Abby and I…" He ran his hand through his hair.

"You and Abby what, DiNozzo?"

"Remember when we cleaned out your house to make room for the girls?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, we sort of took something, and now it's all cleaned and preserved and ready to give back."

"Ok." Gibbs waited.

"Here." Tony handed his boss the box and nearly fled the workshop. If it was a colossal screw up, he didn't want to face the fall-out just yet, and if it wasn't, he didn't want to shame his boss by seeing his tears. Running was the safest thing he knew.

Gibbs reached out for the box. He pulled it closer, wondering at its light weight. He knew of nothing that had been taken from the house that would upset him.

With the knife he still carried in his pocket, he slit open the plain wrapper that covered it, and removed the paper. As his hands parted the covering, he felt his eyes fill with tears. He couldn't see everything yet, but he could see the corner of the little dress he and Shannon had brought Kelly home in.

He carefully removed the rest of the paper and stared at the satin and lace before him. Shannon's wedding dress was carefully preserved along with Kelly's tiny little dress. He'd forgotten the fine details of her gown. As he sat and stared at it, he began to realize that Sam had been right.

The important things hadn't been how she'd brushed her hair or any of the other things she'd done or worn. The important thing was the love that he knew he carried in him still. He rested his head on the box and called up the memory Sam had helped him find them so clearly in.

He wasn't sure if it was minutes or hours later, but he finally picked up his phone and dialed.

"Hey, Boss." Tony sounded unsure of himself.

"Thanks, Tony." Gibbs breathed deeply. "Thanks for keeping this safe, and for…" his voice choked for a moment. "Thanks for caring."

"You're welcome, Boss."

"I learned something today, Tony."

"Never trust an Italian to sort through your things?" Gibbs huffed a chuckle.

"No. Make memories, Tony. If you don't have memories, all of the stuff you ever collect is meaningless. If you lose it all, but have your memories, you've got more than you'll ever need."

######

Sam had already gotten the younger girls to bed when he came in from the workshop.

"Are you ok? Tony left a long time ago, and he looked upset. I wasn't sure if should come check on you or not." Gibbs crossed the kitchen and placed a gentle finger on her lips.

"I love you."


End file.
